


{ in a dark and heavy place }

by the_obsidian_ronin



Series: { v e s s e l s } [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sith Obi-Wan, Slow Burn, eventual gay, gotta get this shit together one day, playlist included, references to blood magic, these poor children, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 125,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_obsidian_ronin/pseuds/the_obsidian_ronin
Summary: in which Anakin is done, Kenobi is laughing his ass off in a state of extreme panic, and Ahsoka is literally done, with just about everyone and everything, whilst the Jedi Council really, really wishes Anakin wasn't the Chosen One.





	1. { o n e }

**Author's Note:**

> HA! GUESS WHO CAN'T WRITE SUMMARIES ANYMORE!  
> Ahhh, yes, Sid's back at it with the fanfiction you want and need! Lord knows what I'm talking about I've been working on this since October go easy on me I can barely remember my own name  
> Anyway, happy new year, merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, whatever holidays you celebrate in the December months, I hope you had a good one! If not, well, I'm sorry. Hopefully 2017 will be kinder to you.  
> I have a playlist on Spotify for this fic if you guys are interested. I'll post it later if you want it.  
> On to the totally devastating emotional cesspool of my addiction to this fandom.

{ p a r t  I }

 _Darth Revis sat on a fluffy sofa, grinning up at_ nothing in particular, twirling a stylus between his fingers as his mind processed the book he was reading, notes scribbled neatly in a dual screen window on his datapad. _Peace is a lie,_ he grinned to himself. _There is only passion._

If he had only understood that before he was a Jedi Knight, he would have spent his time better instead of trying to play _‘jedi’_ like some four-year-old with his mother’s clothes. How petty of him to think that nothing but the Jedi way could ever be the right one. How _narrow,_ how _simple_ of him.

Smoke trailed up from an incense stick in a vase, filling the large room with heady fragrance. Some found it difficult to breathe; he found it relaxing. The sleeves of his tunic were rolled up to the elbows, the black cloth familiar, comfortable. Bruises dotted his exposed skin, followed by silvery or pink scars, some razor-thin, others as wide as a pipe. Gold eyes studied the trail of smoke with a keen interest before returning to his work, the partially legible Sith script in scrawled handwriting.  

Lost in thought, the Sith barely noticed as time went by. He chewed on the end of his stylus, his thoughts moving faster than his hand would allow. If there was one thing about the Jedi that Kenobi had agreed with, it was their incessant need for knowledge. After all, there is no ignorance with the Force.

A hesitant knock came at the door and he rolled his eyes, waving his hand. A grimace greeted his face; didn't he say he didn't want to be bothered? “Enter.”

A page poked his head through the now-open door, likely looking for any potential items being thrown at his head. _So he's aware of his indiscretion,_ Revis mused. _Good._

“I'm sorry sir, I know you said you didn't want to be bothered, but it is important.” The page offered him a scrap of flimsi with a shaking hand, silvery eyes wide and pale with fear.

Revis rose, walking over to the scribe with a regal air he found around himself more and more. He took the scrap from the boy, reading it over before saying, “Anything else?”

“Yes, sir. The man who delivered the message asked that I make you jasmine tea and bring it with the message. It's on a cart in the hall, if you would like it,” the scribe offered, smiling through his fear. Revis was mildly impressed, gold eyes glinting in the light; he wasn’t stuttering over his words, he wasn’t deserving of punishement. Maybe there was hope for this one yet.

The page's words trembled, though, as he spoke, and Revis waved him off. The boy didn’t deserve a punishment. “Thank you. Dismissed.” The scribe bowed deeply before backing out of the room, fleeing down the hall whilst leaving the tea, his cloak flapping along behind him.

_Jasmine: Urgent, action required immediately._

Well, that bode well for him. Kenobi brought the pot of tea over, ceramic hot in his hand, mulling the words of the note over whilst grabbing a cup out of his cupboard and sitting down, reading the message over a second time.

_Urgent: contact me._

He didn't need to ask who it was. He knew. He _always_ knew.

Lifting his comm, he dialed a number he had since learned by heart, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. He swallowed the fear in him, shoving it down and locking it away. Darth Revis was never _scared._ He was never _fearful._ People were afraid of _him,_ and _especially_ his master. But not him. There was no excuse for fear. “Darth Revis,” the hooded man smiled, though it was more of a conniving grin. “I see you got my message.”

“Yes, Master,” Revis nodded, sipping at his tea. A knowing smile cut across his master’s face once again, but it faded as Revis spoke again. _All business. That’s good._ “What is thy bidding?”

“There are negotiations happening in the Separatist system of Yavin. I’m sure you know of it.”

“Of course. Lord Tyranus was speaking of it to me,” Revis hummed, patiently waiting to see what would come of it. Dooku, however, brought a foul taste to his mouth; he’d no love for the man, and his master was aware of that. Just a tool in the grand scheme of things, he’d been told. Kenobi was very, very okay with that.

“Good.... Go to them. Sabotage them.” Sidious paused, searching with a probing wisp of the Force. “And there is something you should know. Darth Navini is _alive_ , and I wouldn't put it past your former lover to be in the middle of it all.”

Revis balked, but did his best to conceal that with a reassuring smile. “If Navini is there, Master, I will take care of it accordingly.” A nod of approval came from Sidious, eyes glinting under the hood.

“Attempt to bring this wayward child into custody if you can. If not.... _Well._ What you do to Navini is not my concern.”

“Yes, Master,” Revis smiled, and the comm was terminated with a flourish of a hand. _Pity,_ he thought, looking down at the tea, steaming away. _I didn't even have a proper cup._

He packed a small bag of food and clothes, not really concerned about much else, and clipped his saber onto the side of his belt. With one last sip of tea, he left his home and wandered into the Coruscanti city.  He may not have been _born_ here, Revis mused, but he would always appreciate the people, and he was raised here. This place was his home, and no amount of Jedi could change that.

Along the way to the hangar, he stopped to get a cup of tea from a vendor, happily sipping away as he cheerfully walked onto his ship, doing a short routine check on the _Ray_ before settling into the pilot’s seat, tea secured in his lap, before taking off.

_Chai: comfort, relaxation. No need for stress._

Once Revis had set the coordinates for the jump to hyperspace, he went into the back and curled into a bed, buried in pillowy warmth.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he certainly remembered the dreams he had.

_Revis stared at the defiant girl in front of him, gold eyes blazing with a righteous fury. She had stumped him many times, but now was different. Now there was blood to be spilled._

_Previously, she had been chained. A mere 17, this former Jedi was malleable, ductile, able to be shaped and molded into a brilliant weapon that the Sith could use, could kill when it was necessary. But this one had a fire in her eyes, a strange balance within herself.... It reminded him of himself, when he was Obi-Wan Kenobi and before he was Revis. Not a Jedi, but certainly not a Sith. Something entirely outside of the Force binary flowed within and around her, bent to her will like a master’s weapon._

_She had grown much since the last time they were truly together, like master and apprentice, or even like lovers._

_He expected resistance when he first entered her mind. He watched for any sign of pain, of a break of her focus, the former Jedi padawan’s weakness his only goal. Only, once he was in her mind, it was empty. No rage, no fear, no memories; most importantly, no walls. She had learned how to successfully hide everything from everyone, even the most skilled manipulator in the galaxy, using a method considered obsolete and ineffective. He wanted to know who had taught her that. It certainly wasn't him, not in the time she was his Padawan._

_In his shock, she took the opportunity to finally break her silence. “Surprise,” she croaked out, and spun at him with her saber, the same brilliant gold as her eyes and his, tight in her grip, blazed a triumphant blue in comparison._

That dream faded into the next, the same brilliant gold eyes staring back at him, lost in passion, in lust, in promises made only to be broken but neither of them cared, tangled together in the bedsheets as the ethereal glow of Mustafar shone into their room, washing everything in dull reds. She had been told of his abilities, of his abilities in tearing people apart only to reconstruct them the way he wanted them, the way they would be most beneficial for him. And this girl, this beautiful, gorgeous, lethal girl, was his next weapon.

Her sullen coos of _“Master”_ and soft pleadings in her lyrical voice weren’t enough for him, his fingers teasing at her body, bringing tears to her eyes and her pleading to begging, a coy smile over the ginger's face as a line of kisses were pressed along her jaw and down the column of her neck, reaching further.... Further....

The beep of his comm woke him up, and he must have come out if hyperspace if it was going off. Heading to the cockpit and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he answered it with a sleepy “Hello?”

“Kenobi,” the familiar voice of Ventress hissed out. “I need your help.”

Normally, he would make some innuendo in some sort of half-assed attempt to make her laugh, but the urgency in her voice broke that idea into tiny little shards. “Ventress, darling? What's wrong? What happened?”

“Dooku is going to kill me,” she hissed out, her eyes narrowed but fear all over her body. She looked over her shoulder, blurring the holo. Her eyes returned to Revis, and he felt deep remorse for her. The assassin was never fit to be a true Sith, but he felt a deep kinship with her nonetheless. They had bonded over taunting the girl’s master in Dooku, and Kenobi had even once formed a training bond with her.

“Need a place to lay low?”

Wordlessly, she nodded.

“Alright. Go to my house in Coruscant and lay low.... Dooku shouldn't go looking for you there. We can figure out what to do when I get back.” Revis paused, contemplating what to tell her next. “And Ventress?”

“Kenobi?”

“Try not to die.”

A small laugh left her throat, and her eyes sparkled with the sense of a challenge. “I'll always haunt you, Revis. Always.” She hung up, leaning Revis holding his tea cup that was now half full of cold tea.

He sighed, tossing it in a waste bin and calculating to make the next, far shorter jump. He clambered into the shower of the 'fresher, bleary-eyed and haunted by his dreams. _Navini._ He was certain she was dead-- but what if she wasn't? What if his master was right? _Of_ _course he's right, you fool, he knows all of these things_ , Revis snapped at himself, shaking himself free of the doubt. Though, his heart refused to believe that Navini was alive, not after what she’d done to him, to the Sith, and to herself.

His mind moved to a more pressing matter as he turned off the water, now icy cold, and dried off, pulling his soft tunic off the line. If Dooku is trying to kill Ventress, what kind of punishment would he get for interfering? Dooku is his equal, not his superior; plus, Darth Sidious always pushed the matter of protecting those you loved. Revis loved Ventress, in a way. She'd saved his ass on multiple occasions, and when Maul _and_ Master Jinn died, she was the only one that had understood his pain of losing two masters on the same day, or at least attempted to. It was the least he could do; he owed her, and Darth Revis did _not_ like being indebted.

He finished tying his tunic on, the gold-trimmed black cutting a brilliant contrast with his pale skin and reddish hair.

Fourteen years of being a Sith, and he still doubted himself. How.... _Typical._

The hyperdrive beeped to let him know he was in the proper system, and he moved to the cockpit once more as he slowed and regrouped with Sep forces.

“This is Revis,” he called into the frequency, and the chatter that came back told him he was in the right place.

 _“Lord Revis! Lord Sidious said you would come,”_ an unfamiliar voice said cheerfully. He rolled his eyes. He _despised_ these missions.

“Indeed. Requesting to dock with your vessel,” he hissed out, eyeing the Republic ship. How had they not spotted him yet? _Jedi,_ he grunted. _Always so oblivious._ He pulled into the hangar bay, exiting the threat momentarily, though he couldn't shake the familiar Force signature on that star destroyer, one that he had spent _years_ avoiding.  

On that said Republic ship, Anakin Skywalker watched the ship dock with the Separatists, sharp blue eyes following the oh-so-familiar signature within it. He couldn't place where he knew it from, but he did.

Ahsoka’s call from beside him, her hand weary on his arm, pulled him out of his reverie. “Master, we're getting ready to begin.”

“Huh? Oh. I'll be right there,” Anakin hummed, still staring at the spot by where the vessel had vanished.  

She nodded, but didn't move. “Master, are you well? You look pale.”

Anakin gave her a small smile, wishing he didn't have to lie to her. “Yeah, Snips. I'm fine.” He draped his arm around her shoulders, heading for the conference room. “Let’s go.”

*~*~*

 _Revis ran about the halls, dodging the guards and killing anyone who got in his way, red blade_ blazing for all hell _._ A bag of explosives in hand, now half-empty, he slunk around the catwalks of maintenance hallways, the Republic star destroyer not different than those years he spent aboard one with Qui-Gon.

 _“Master Revis, do you have everything in place yet?”_ The Separatist leader called through their mics, and he growled out a negative, that he needed more time.

 _“Too bad,”_ the leader snarled, and Revis didn't need to look at the explosives in his bag to know he had about five seconds to get the fuck away from them.

He ripped them off his body and bolted down the hallway, ripping around a corner and tripping as they went off.

He was mildly aware of the sound of a gunfight outside the ship, the shocks rolling the ship with each one. He shook his head of his bleariness, black spots vanishing from his sight as he snarled into his comm. “Big mistake,” he growled, feeling his anger rip through him at the leader.

A maniacal laughing came across the comm, and Revis was on the hunt, comm ripped out of his ear and eyes seeing nothing but red and black. It wasn't hard to find the leader who'd double-crossed him, red blade blazing in his hand and anger in his eyes. There was no time to make him suffer, regretfully, but there _was_ time to kill him.

The leader looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He found some sort of sickening _joy_ in it, or at least it would have been sickening to the Jedi. A slick smile crossed his face, but there was nothing but murderous intent behind it. Revis was out of the game too long, and the term _The Negotiator_ had lost its sting. Unfortunately, there was no time for mind games. If the leader begged, it fell on deaf ears, the Sith’s red blade coming down on him in an instant. It would have to do.

A sharp look was sent to the others in the room, an unspoken warning of _If you cross me, you'll be just like him_. They nodded in understanding, the Sith smirking. “Good,” he snarled, wasting no further time with the damned Separatists. He bolted out of the room and down the hallways, cloak flapping along behind him, somehow managing to avoid the collapsing beams as he did so.

He was seriously missing that cup of tea.

_*~*~*_

_Anakin was getting really, really tired of finding himself on broken, burning ships._ The scent of sulfur clung to him as burning durasteel collapsed around him, the Jedi Knight leaping from beam to beam in an attempt to _not_ die. Just a simple mission, they said. It would be easy, they said. Anakin was really starting to think the Council was really trying to kill him. And this time, he thought, they might have succeeded. If he lived to tell the tale, he was going to punch Yoda right in his little green nose and throw Mace out of the damned window. Despite his bitterness, he wasn’t likely to do that. He rather liked his job, despite his grievances. He lived for the thrill, and maybe -- he would _never_ tell Quinlan Vos this -- for the bonus points with the women at bars.

“General Skywalker!” Rex called through Anakin’s comm. “Waiting for you at the hangar bay.”

“Go!” Anakin howled into it, leaping into the edge of a platform and getting the wind knocked out of him. “I’ll meet you back on Coruscant,” he continued, barely getting his breath back and groaning as he continued running.

“Sir—”

“Take Ahsoka and _get out of here!_ That’s an order!” he snapped, and the sad, weary affirmative crackled through before the connection went dead. Anakin spared a moment in his break for the hangar to look down at it; the poor thing had been crushed by the sheer force with which Anakin was gripping it and the crumbling ship.

He tossed it aside, frustrated, and skidded into the hangar bay as he rounded a corner, narrowly missing a falling beam, diving over the smoldering durasteel and rolling, head over heels, and landing in a neat crouch, surveying the hangar bay. Two ships not semi-crushed by the falling durasteel were still flyable, and he bolted to the closer of the two, narrowly missing getting pinned by two beams. He was not so lucky, however, in crashing into someone else.

Anakin slid back on his back, saber in his hand and ignited faster than the average eye could track. The other man, clad in gold-trimmed black, had only staggered, his face hidden in shadow by his cloak. A silence fell over them that seemed to last for an eternity, and then the figure in black made his move, drawing a saber from the drapey confines of his cloak. “No one told me the Chosen One would be here,” he sing-songed happily, spinning a black-hilted blade between his fingers. The crimson blade sprung to life once the man’s palm rested on it, dancing red light across the jawline of the figure.

Anakin swore under his breath in Huttese, muttering, “This is _so_ not how I thought this day was going to go,” and dove to the side to avoid falling debris. Electric blue eyes met gold, and he saw something in those eyes that was warm, familiar, and friendly; Anakin shook himself of that sensation. This man was a _Sith Lord,_ not a Jedi. He was a Separatist, for all Anakin knew.

But he digressed.

“Listen,” Anakin finally said, not dropping his guard. “If we stay here, we will both die. I don’t wish to die today, and I’m reasonably convinced you don’t either.”

“Running away from a fight?” the Sith Lord teased, and Anakin sucked in a breath, eyes narrowing on the far ship, just over the Sith’s shoulder.

“For once,” Anakin hummed, almost to himself, “I’m doing something that’s _not_ crazy and suicidal.”

The Jedi disengaged his saber, but kept a firm grip on it as he ran up a fallen beam and flipped over the Sith, using the Force to land twenty or so feet away, looking over his shoulder at him. The Sith made no move to follow, simply watching him, as if he were a circus act. Amusement seemed to radiate from him, and it only frustrated the Jedi further. As Anakin made a move towards the ship, he should have kriffing knew that something was going to happen. It was just _too_ easy.

A piece of debris flew past his face, and one took out his legs, effectively knocking him over. Anakin scrabbled for his saber, which had scattered across the floor upon impact.

“Last I checked,” the Sith said, walking over to him as if he had all the time in the world, “the Chosen One, the Defiant, the Hero with No Fear, _did not listen to logic._ ”

Anakin was sure he had a smart-ass remark for that, but he kept his mouth shut for once as he hauled himself off the ground, saber in hand and their sabers humming in some sickening, deadly harmony. They circled each other, eyes narrowed, searching for a gap in the other’s mental defenses. The Sith’s black cloak gently brushed the floor as he walked, hanging from his shoulders like a regal gown, and his golden eyes glowed out in amusement as they paced.

Another set of debris came flying at Anakin, and both were destroyed, the pieces clattering to the ground, the easy movements graceful and contained.

“Shii-Cho,” the Sith remarked. “Isn’t that a little _emotional_ for a Jedi?”

When Anakin didn’t reply, the Sith came attacking, his hood flying down but Anakin was too concerned on _not getting his legs cut off—_ because honestly, who cuts at the leg in a fight? That’s just cheating! – and was barely able to parry the man’s furious blows. The shock from them seemed to send waves of power into his body, fuelling him as well as scaring him. He finally managed to shove the ginger off – wait, was the Sith really ginger? – and gasp for breath, the man’s golden eyes and terrifying, sadistic, sensual smile cutting the smug complexion. _Not now, Anakin, not now,_ he told himself, shoving back _other_ thoughts that came to the surface.

“So quiet,” he teased, “I thought the Chosen One was known for his defiance of the Council?”

Don’t say anything, Anakin, don’t say anything— “What would you know about the Council?” Anakin shot back. He immediately kicked himself. _You had one job, Anakin, one job._

The Sith only laughed, a cold, conniving sound, and they circled each other. As Anakin awaited his response, he noted the resting move, the crimson blade so close to the face of the Sith and lighting the gold in a blazing glory of yellow and orange. _Soresu._ “I know a lot more about the Council than you might think,” he warned, flying in with a downward stab. Anakin met it with an upwards block, his hands resting on his shoulder in an attempt to gain more strength in the block. The Jedi Knight risked a jab, and it threw the Sith off, allowing Anakin a sweeping cut at his legs. Cheating? Yes. Worth it? Definitely.

Finally, as the ship started to give way, they had to battle not only each other but the falling beams of durasteel as well. The Sith shoved Anakin back one last time, the Jedi skidding down on his back towards one of the other ships. “Go, Chosen One,” the Sith laughed, pointing with the tip of his crimson blade to the ship. “We will meet again.”

Stunned, Anakin watched the ginger go, staring at the curve of his body and how he swung his cloak back over his shoulders to hide the golden dragon embroidered across his shoulders. “What kind of Sith are you?” Anakin shouted at his retreating back.

The ginger turned, saying, “One you will be spending a great deal of time thinking about, I assure you,” and boarded his ship, flying out moments later.

Anakin watched him go, still on his back, and then became acutely aware of the fact that the _ship was still falling apart_ and took off, into the ship. He flipped a switch, muttering to himself as he got the piece of junk up and flying, taking off and out of the hangar just as the rest of the ship crumbled behind him.

He leaned back into the captain’s chair, looking at the bruises that were already starting to form. Burns dotted his skin, and he tried to recall the man’s face. _Ginger hair,_ he concluded, _a beard, a sharp jaw…_

But with training like that, he was indeed going to be thinking about that Sith for a very, very long time. _Soresu,_ he finally thought to himself. _How odd._ He got the comms up and running, patching into the ship that the Clones and he had taken that morning after a little toggling. “Captain Rex,” he called. “It’s good to see you.”

The captain shimmered to life on a blue hologram, joy and elation on his face. “General Skywalker! You made it!”

“Barely, my dear friend, barely,” he laughed, cradling his arm, and then said, “but is Ahsoka there? I need to see her.”

“OUTTA MY WAY, REX, _”_ Ahsoka’s voice shouted from somewhere out of his view, and his young Padawan shoved the Clone out of her path so she was the only one in the projection. Anakin smiled at her, and she smoothed her cloak, which was haphazardly draped across her shoulders. She looked sleepy, as if she had just woken up. “Hello, Skyguy.”

“Hey, Snips. Where are you? I can possibly make a rendezvous,” Anakin started, but Ahsoka shook her head.

“We’re only a parsec from Coruscant. I don’t think we could turn back unless you absolutely needed a rescue, Master.”

Anakin made a face and sighed. “Alright. I’ve gotta own up to Master Windu…. Wish me luck. Hopefully he won’t behead me the second I land.”

Ahsoka laughed. “I doubt he will. You’re too powerful,” she joked, and then said, “Honestly, though, I don’t think he will. I’m glad you made it out, Master. I’ll comm Ronin, I hear she’s somewhere in the vicinity.”

“I am too,” he murmured. “I’ll fill you in on what happened when I’m done with the Council. And if you could, that would be great. One of these days, you actually have to meet her.”

“I know. Try not to get yourself killed, Skyguy. Ahsoka, out.”

The comm went dead, leaving Anakin in the cold silence of space. A few moments later, a familiar ship entered the system, allowing Anakin to dock with it.

Anakin had heard stories from Ronin about her ship the _Ghost_ and the feats the woman had managed with it; how, though, he questioned greatly. How she came upon the name _Ronin_ was also a mystery to him, as was much of her past. A naturally private person, he’d learned not to pry into her affairs; it ended badly for him once, and he still has a scar. As he docked with the _Ghost,_ he tried to forget about how a blind woman was somehow able to fly a ship without the help of a droid much safer than he ever could, but he digressed. He opened up the docking port and climbed through, clambering straight up into the cockpit.

“Welcome, Master Skywalker,” a joking voice said, “to my humble abode.”

Ronin smiled from her copilot’s seat, a winking, lovely look on her face, and Anakin settled in the pilot’s. “I don’t want you to even _attempt_ flying,” he grunted at her. “Not with me in the ship, at least.”

“Oh please, Anakin, I fly just fine,” the girl harrumphed, teal hair tied up in a dirty mess and scars across her eyes buried under layers of makeup, very Nabian in nature. Anakin’s first thought was that Padme would have been proud. He set the coordinates back to Coruscanti space, leaning back up against the seat as they made the jump to hyperspace. He let out a tense breath, wincing as he consciously relaxed injured parts of his body. The gash on his ribs wasn’t deep and was cauterized shut from the lightsaber blade, but it would scar. They always do.

“I would say you look like hell, but we both know that I can’t see,” Ronin finally joked in the middle of a long silence.

Anakin laughed, a tired, weak sound, but no less genuine. “One of these days, I’m gonna convince the Council to meet you,” he hummed. “But they would probably hate you as much as they hate me.” Ronin laughed, her smiling face a contrast to the weeks spent with the negotiations squad on the pinnacle-class star destroyer. It was a relief, being away from political matters and around someone who had such a casual feel to her, as if one could say anything and be anyone and she would accept you.

“I don’t feel like dying, thanks. So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Ronin asked, crossing her arms over her white dress top and gray pants, legs crossed at the ankles as she absently spun in her seat, giggling as she slowed herself and tried to get her bearings.

“I will. _After_ I tell the Council,” Anakin smiled, winking. “You should know I do have to follow protocol, Ronin.”

She rolled her eyes and harrumphed, standing up. “I’ll grab you a blanket. You probably need some rest, Anakin.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he sighed, and a few moments later, she returned with the blanket, some water, and food. Anakin took them with a mumbled, exhausted thanks, drinking the water before going into the back and collapsing on the floor, chewing on the bitter chocolate bar.

Anakin’s entire body ached, and his navy robes were cut up and burned where they had made contact with either his or the Sith’s saber. In hindsight, he realized, Anakin should have expected a Sith, but he hadn’t even seen the blow coming; what if it jeopardized his mission? What if the Sith was the one who sent the Separatists that shot down the ship? As he wrapped himself in his clothes and blankets once more, his last thought was that _what if_ s were not going to solve this issue.

Anakin Skywalker was going to find him, and bring him to justice, and kill him if need be.

Darth Revis waited in the debris field, his black chrome ship floating with the durasteel scraps. His heart had dropped to the floor, and tears rolled down his face. He lifted a hand to wipe at the trail, staring in confusion at his wet hand.

The ship the Skywalker child had docked with shot off into hyperspace, but it wasn't the return of his former master's _replacement_ for him that bothered the Sith.

 _Navini lived_.

He swallowed dryly, deciding that Mustafar was a _far_ better option than dealing with the Jedi backlash that was sure to follow. His hands shook on the console, the normally stock-still Sith trembling at the thought of what was to follow. What was it? He had no clue.

 _“I’ll do whatever needs to be done,”_ he'd told his master.

Now, he was very, very afraid of the consequences.

He picked up his comm, and with a shaky hand, dialed his master.

~*~*~

 _Ronin woke Anakin up when they hit Coruscanti airspace, the oddly well-traveled bartender only_ smiling at him. The groggy Jedi looked up at her sadly, and then as if realizing where he was, panicked and looked around for the feared Jedi Master Mace Windu. “Anakin, you know I avoid associating with the Jedi publicly,” she smiled, and the silvery scars across her eyes moved with the muscle movement.

Anakin relaxed, smiling with relief as he stood. “I know, I know. But maybe you should come in, you know? Meet everyone? Say hello?” Anakin pushed, almost _begging_ his friend with his hand on hers. They had been through so much together, survived so much, and he felt like it was the best thing he could do to repay her.

She only smiled at the ground, teal hair in sheets around her. “I cannot, Anakin. Many of my customers would be…. _Disappointed_ if I did so.”

Anakin took a deep breath. Her questionable clientele wasn’t his concern; her valuable information had saved his life several times, and it most likely would continue to, but the last thing he wanted was to risk her life. He was a Jedi, not a soldier. He hated the war as much as Ronin did, as much as anyone did, really.

“Fine,” he finally said, sighing. “But I’ll get you, one day, in front of that council.”

Ronin only faintly smiled, gently pushing Anakin towards the docking port. “Go, you goofball. I’ll see you after you talk with the Jedi, yes?”

Anakin nodded, preparing to jump down into the ship. “You can count on that.”

She smiled, waving him off. “Go. Go deal with your Jedi friends.”

He smiled, gently shoving her shoulder back, and then paused at the door to the cockpit, something making him stop. Call it a feeling, call it a premonition or foreshadowing; he only felt what he did. “Ronin?” he called to her, his back to her.

“I recall telling you to leave,” she joked, flipping switches and arguing her presence with the airspace controllers in a jumbled, angry local dialect.

“Do you have Maul’s saber still?”

She hesitated, fear now rolling off of her in waves as she weighed his words before replying. “Of course. Why?”

“Keep it close by. You might need it,” Anakin hummed, and then stepped out of the cockpit, dropping down into the docking port of his own ship and settling into the pilot’s seat. He detached from Ronin’s ship, the two of them flying off in opposite directions. He dialed a local comm number, the angry face of Mace Windu appearing in a blue holographic glory of horror.

“Skywalker, where have you been? Your Padawan has been here for hours waiting for you,” he all but howled, and Anakin did his best not to flinch.

“Had to hitch a ride; ship I stole didn’t have the fuel or firepower for me to make the trip on my own. I’m sure you’d find it ironic that I’d freeze to death in hyperspace, but I’d rather not,” he grunted dryly, bags under his eyes deeper than ever.

 _Kriff,_ Anakin, did you really just say that? He shouted at himself internally, but kept his tongue this time.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Windu snarled.

Anakin rolled his eyes, biting his tongue. “Nothing, Master Windu. The moment I land, I need an audience with the Council. The negotiations in the Yavin system didn’t exactly…. Go according to plan. And it wasn’t my fault this time,” Anakin defended at the annoyed look on the man’s face.

Mace rolled his eyes, attempting poorly to hide his annoyance at the young Jedi. “You need a whole hell of a lot more than that, Skywalker; just get here. Your Padawan awaits you in the hangar bay. Windu, out.” The comm was terminated, leaving Anakin to his own devices as he lowered the ship into the bay and cutting the power, somehow regretting the decision to remain a Jedi. He would favor death to dealing with the Council again.

“Skyguy!” Ahsoka called as Anakin gingerly descended from the dock of his borrowed-slash-stolen ship, his entire body sore and wounds dotting his body, shallow and half-healed, but still tender nonetheless. She rushed to hug him, the Jedi grunting as he gently wrapped his arms around her himself.

“Easy there, Snips,” he finally groaned. “A lot of stuff happened after you left.”

“You shouldn’t have made me leave,” Ahsoka growled, letting go of him as they tottered to the Council chambers.

“You would have died, Ahsoka,” Anakin sniffed, hiding his pain behind an expressionless face. “I was _lucky._ ”

“The great Anakin Skywalker got _lucky?_ ” Ahsoka sniffed as they entered the chamber. “What did you have to face that you oh-so-heroically escaped from?”

There were traces of sarcasm in her tone, but neither the Council nor Anakin said anything. For him, it was a breath of fresh air, away from the seriousness he had been through. The questioning gazes of the Jedi in front of him only pushed his determination forward, and then he said, “After the Sep attack on the Republic Star Destroyer in the Yavin system, I was fleeing after making sure all delegates—and Clones—were off the ship, as you know. However, what you don’t know,” Anakin started, taking a breath, “is that a Sith was there, as if he were _looking_ for me. Or, rather, he was looking for a Jedi.”

“Another Sith?” Ahsoka quietly breathed. “The last one….”

“Killed my master. Yes, I am aware, Ahsoka,” Anakin spat bitterly, and almost immediately regretted it. She shrunk away from him, but did not waver from his side. What did he do to deserve her loyalty?

“Escape, how did you?” Yoda finally asked, and Anakin grimaced, clutching at a rather deep wound on his side—how had that gotten there?—before answering.

“He let me go,” Anakin replied, careful to keep his frustration and anger in check in his exhausted and temperamental state.

“ _Let you go?_ ” Windu snarled, almost losing his temper. “ _Sith_ don’t let people go, Skywalker.”

Anakin closed his eyes to gather himself, Mace’s anger not being something he wanted to deal with right then, or right _ever_ for that matter. “Well, this one did, Master Windu,” Anakin shot back. “And there’s more.” The Council looked at each other in annoyed shock at his outburst, but none chided him for once. Ahsoka’s energies were swirling around him, attempting to protect and heal him like she always tried, and it helped bring his temper back down to a manageable level. “The ship and hangar bay were collapsing around us. Both of us had to dodge falling beams, sheets of metal; I appealed to his self-preservation. I don’t think he was there looking for a Jedi to fight or kill; he was there to sabotage the negotiations… which obviously worked. And I think he was a Jedi once,” Anakin finally finished.

The room sat in stiff silence, Mace Windu and Yoda looking the most troubled out of the bunch. The two Master Jedi exchanged worried glances, but kept other emotions carefully under lock and key. Even _Ahsoka_ picked up on the uneasy body language of the Council before him.

“That’s quite the accusation, Skywalker,” Master Kloon finally said, breaking his silence.

“How many born-Sith fight in Form III, Masters? Soresu? None. That’s how many. It’s not in their forms, not in the way they operate. Soresu is a very _Jedi_ technique, and not one that’s easy to learn without instruction,” Anakin argued, his tired pain leaking through his words.  

“So, Count Dooku taught him,” he heard Mace say.

Anakin shook his head, hands clasped limply behind his back. “Dooku _hates_ Soresu, and he certainly wouldn’t teach it to an apprentice. No, I’m almost certain this Sith was a Jedi. He even commented on my Shii-Cho form, Masters—that’s not a Sith tradition, either. So either he’s really good at mind games, or he’s a former Jedi.”

Master Mundi had been watching this entire exchange go on, listening but not speaking. Ahsoka looked up at Anakin, fear hidden deep in her stomach; but it was so strong she wanted to throw up. Anakin felt her fear, and he was certain the rest of the Council did as well. Both he and Ahsoka were known for their emotions, it seemed, and their ability to trust; which, apparently, the rest of the Council lacked. Finally, the voice of Master Mundi graced the room, cutting the tension. “Anakin, you bring a deadly point to our attention. If this Sith _was_ a Jedi….”

The room went silent, and then Mace whispered, “ _Revis._ ”

“Don’t fool yourselves, Masters,” Luminara huffed, almost indignant. “Revis _and_ Navini have been dead for nearly a decade.” A decade, Anakin mused. _It had been nearly a decade since Master Jinn died._ A decade was a lot of time, a lot of time for things to go wrong or change.

“Revis wouldn’t come back from the dead anyway,” Anakin smiled. “What brings this up?”

“Revis was a former Jedi. In fact, he was Qui-Gon’s apprentice before you,” Ahsoka blurted out, and the others stared at her. “Sorry. I’ve been reading the holorecords again.”

“No,” Mace sighed. “She’s right. His name was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and defected shortly after you were initiated. However, we didn’t know that he had, indeed, defected until after his death. Navini had left all his personal records on Kenobi since Revis was his teacher, all the things he’d discovered whilst training under him. Rumor has it, Navini didn’t even die as a result of the wounds sustained from the battle with Revis—he died as a result of his own doing.”

“Which would be?” Anakin asked, confused.

“He flung himself out of an airlock in the middle of Wild Space, or so it goes,” Luminara said bluntly. “No one really knows if Navini is really dead, but the Sith don’t tolerate traitors—and that’s why we think he’s dead.”

“So, what do we know about Navini?” Anakin asked, eyes flitting from member to member as they figured out what to say

There was a silence in the room after Anakin finished his question, the Council members looking around and trying to see if it was worth telling him. Finally, Ahsoka raised her voice, trying to hide the tremble in it; she was rarely scared by the Jedi Council, but news of a Sith would startle anyone. “Darth Navini was a mystery to anyone outside the Sith. Some sightings of him report a woman, others a male—some human, some not, but the constant blend of Ataru, Soresu, and Vaapad in the dueling forms were the only constant other than those who survived were _meant_ to survive. Other than that…. No one knows. The only one who would, Revis, was killed.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Anakin breathed quietly. “I have a hunch to hunt down, Masters. By your leave?” He asked, his voice stronger than his body or his will to live at that point. If his hunch was right, he was very, very likely a dead man.

“Go, Skywalker. Don’t leave this planet without telling us,” Mace waved him off, and the Master and Padawan turned their backs, striding out of the room.

The second the doors shut, both Anakin and Ahsoka let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. “I hate doing that,” Ahsoka grumbled.

Anakin laughed, patting her on the shoulder. “Come on, Snips, street clothes. We have a mission.”

*~*~*

Minutes later they were on the holorail, Anakin planning out what he would say to Ahsoka in his head whilst ignoring his bodily pain and exhaustion. _Ahsoka, meet Ronin. Ronin, meet Ahsoka. Though you’ve met over the comms?_ He shook his head, tossing that one aside. _No. Think, Skywalker, think! Surely you can think of **something** that would help you out here. _ He ran his hands through his hair, and Ahsoka finally said, “Master, where are we even going?”

The holorail came to a halt and Anakin rose. “This is our stop. Keep a close hand on your bag, Ahsoka; this isn’t the type of place for people like you and I.” He took a step off the platform, hood pulled low over his eyes and carefully watching for anyone who might hold a threat. Ahsoka cautiously followed, tucking her Padawan chain into her hood, and followed her Master closely, not saying a word to anyone or even looking at anything. Anakin’s silent brooding was troubling to her, though his energies were relatively balanced, if not worried. She had always been particularly sensitive to his energy, and his alone. He stopped, and heard a quiet, “We’re here,” before he pushed open the door to a bar whose door read _closed._ Ahsoka warily followed, Anakin hearing her quiet footsteps behind him as he entered the dark, dusty bar. A familiar teal-haired girl was behind the bar, cleaning mugs and carefully making her way around.

“Anakin! I’m so glad you came. I—” She paused, and then said, “who is it that you bring with you, Jedi?” Her voice went from happy and welcoming to deadly and dangerous in an instant, the girl’s eyes narrowed and ready for anything.

“Oh. This is my Padawan, Ahsoka. I believe you’ve met, in a way,” Anakin explained, grimacing as he stepped the wrong way. His breath caught as he spoke, and Ronin raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, indeed,” Ronin replied cheerfully, though she didn’t miss his wince of pain. “Interesting energies, she has. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Uh, Master?” Ahsoka quietly asked. “Is she okay?”

Ronin raised her eyebrows, and spat, “Young one, my experience on the battlefield outweighs both _yours_ and your master’s put together, and you have me to thank for his life.” Ronin suddenly realized what she said, silvery gold eyes widening. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that; it’s just been a long trip, and I just broke a glass and I can’t find the shards. Alex is in the Dagobah system, I think, and stars know why, I suppose.”

“I’ll get the glass, don’t worry,” Anakin said, and Ronin hopped up on the bar while Anakin swept, the broom a steady rhythm he somehow found comfort in. Hells, he found comfort in just about anything if he was around Ronin.

“Why don’t you clean it up yourself?” Ahsoka asked, and Anakin shot out a sharp “ _Ahsoka!_ ”

Ronin laughed, shaking her head. “Calm down, Anakin, she didn’t mean it like that.” She hopped off the bar, leaning towards the general direction of Ahsoka. “You see, Ahsoka, I’m blind. I can sense energies, but other than that, I cannot see. So, therefore, since transparisteel is not a living being, I cannot tell where it is and where it’s not. I’ve lived this long without cutting my fingers off, and I’m not about to turn into your master with that hand of his.”

“Hey!” Anakin protested, and Ronin rolled her eyes, sarcastically huffing in response.

“Anakin, _please,_ ” she retorted, “if I wanted one of those so bad, I would cut off my own arm!”

Ahsoka chuckled a bit, resting at the bar, watching the playful dynamic between her master and his friend. “So how did you lose your sight?”

Ronin opened her mouth to answer as her hand laid on Anakin’s said mechanical arm, tracing the mechanical components under the leather glove he wore in a practiced and gentle form of affection, but her lips fell silent, her eyes narrowed, and she then hissed, “ _Revis._ He’s alive.”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about,” Anakin murmured. “This Sith, Ronin, he fought like a Jedi—he fought like you do.” Ahsoka briefly wondered how her master knew how this _girl_ fought, but then again, what did she know about her? Nothing, that’s what.

“Soresu, Ataru, and Juyo,” Ronin nodded. “Personally, Ataru is too restricting for me, but I understand. I…. I once studied under Revis, before….” She touched the scars across her eyes, and her anger flared, though there was no physical change in her face. “Before he took my sight, on order of Darth Maul.”

“So you’re the one who helped my Master,” Ahsoka smiled. “But you dined with a Sith?”

“Hells, Ahsoka,” Ronin laughed, “I bedded him once, well, more than once. I did Padme Amidala once, as well, before she tragically passed. A life taken too soon, in my opinion; she did us much good.” Ronin poured herself and Anakin a drink, and then asked, “Ahsoka, do you want some liquor, or do you just want something to drink?”

With a look to Anakin, who had shrugged his indifference, she simply sighed and said, “I’ll have a water, please.”

“Good girl,” Ronin said, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “Don’t drink. It’s bad for you.” She raised her glass and said, “To Padme!”

Anakin echoed her, and they both drank their shots, watching as their movements seemed synchronized in a way. The Togruta girl raised an eyebrow, then said, “Are you two—”

“No,” they both denied, voices in unison. They glanced at each other and snorted, giggling like schoolchildren.

“Trust me, I tried,” Ronin winked. “A fine catch, Anakin would have been. He’s still too devastated over Padme, I suppose, or he just can’t deal with ditching his oh-so-lovely celibacy.”

“Ronin!” he groaned, his face turning bright red and burying it in the sleeves of his cloak.

“Oh, Anakin, _please,_ ” she groaned. “I’m only teasing. Besides, I have Alex. Why would I want you?”

“For his dashing charm,” Ahsoka proferred teasingly, elbowing her master gingerly in the arm. He waved her off, his ears burning red over the sleeves and under his curly blond hair.

Ronin snorted. “And along with that, I get all the sarcasm I wanted, political bullshit, the entire Jedi Council hating me more than they already do, Anakin losing his life, and, not to mention, his tendency to find himself in deadly situations. No, I think I’ll leave what happened with Anakin and Padme in the past and _not_ repeat that, thanks.”

A silence rang out over the room, a gentle and easy silence, and then Ahsoka asked, “You said you studied under Darth Revis. Why?” A warning radiated from Anakin through the Force, but Ahsoka ignored it.

“I sought knowledge. He sought a companion. Our arrangement was beneficial for both of us, until we were bored of it; then his Master, Maul, found out about us, and he was forced to blind me. Blind revenge caused me to save Anakin, not of my own free will.” Ronin shrugged. “Though, at this point, he owes me big time.”

“That I do, Ronin, that I do.” Anakin stretched, having finally recovered, then said, “What else can you tell us about him?”

Ronin swallowed uncomfortably, her face turning red. “The man is a passionate lover and a hateful warrior. His skills are unlike that I’ve seen before, either in holorecords or in person. I have studied under Dark Jedi, Jedi, and Sith, and under those who claim heritage of the ways of the Gray, and I have never encountered someone else who could combat him and hope to win.” She rolled her shoulders, sighing. “Navini…. Navini thought she killed him. I was friends with her, Navini. She was a lost Jedi, one who fell before she was even truly a Jedi. I held her in my arms as she died. Now, I suppose, it is my job to finish what she started.”

“That would be reckless,” Anakin growled. “I won’t let you do that.”

Ronin looked at the hand that was on her bicep, more of a reaction than of any actual visual shock. Ahsoka’s eyebrows raised, and Ronin smiled faintly. Anakin’s desire to protect her was strong, Ahsoka noted, but what did that entail for the Jedi? “Then come with me, Anakin Skywalker. _Help me._ I may be stronger in the Force than you but I am older, more well-taught. If you would _listen_ to me, you would become stronger than you could even fathom.”

“The Dark Side consumes, Ronin, you know that,” Anakin growled, letting go of her arm. He looked almost apologetic, though he didn’t seem to be upset either.

“ _Only if you let it,_ Anakin. Only if you let it. The Jedi don’t even let you use the full extent of the Light, because it’s ‘too lethal.’ What else is it? A death sentence if you can’t use your own craft completely and wholly?” Ronin rolled her eyes. “That’s why I left the tutelage of the Jedi. Darth Revan was one of the strongest users known to the Galaxy and yet, you refuse to see that you can _know_ the Force, what it is capable of, and still never use what you’re not comfortable with. And if you want to fight Revis, you’re going to have to understand that, Anakin.” Ronin sighed, going to scrub at the glasses on the counter that were filthy still. “He’s here, on this planet. You would do well to make yourselves scarce, maybe even leave the system. The Force is buzzing with evil doings, ones even I cannot fathom.”

“I won’t leave you here,” Anakin barked, how voice low and determined.

“ _Anakin Skywalker,_ ” Ronin hissed, leaning on the bar table directly towards him, eyes narrowed and tense. “This _game_ you think this is might get you killed. Darth Revis is deadly, and he tore you up badly by _playing_ with you. If he wanted you dead, you would be.” Ahsoka gingerly set down her mug, the water gone but her stomach still in knots. She watched the turmoil, her master’s blue eyes angry and Ronin’s frustrated, silvery-gold gaze.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, ironically laughing and shaking his head. _Of course,_ he said to himself, and did his best to rein in his anger. A silence fell on them, and the Force slowly faded away, Anakin glaring at the floor. Ahsoka took a deep breath, studying Ronin as she furiously scrubbed at a glass, cleaning the dust off of it.

“Are you a Sith?” she suddenly asked Ronin, her voice soft and gentle.

The teal-haired bartender bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating before she turned to the young Jedi. “In a past life, maybe I was. But no, I’m not. I’m no Jedi, I’m no Sith, but I _know_ the Force, and I know Revis better than that. I could tell you what game to play to get in his head, but you, Anakin, wouldn’t like it.”

Anakin leaned forward, pants brushing the bar base. “What is it?”

Ronin sighed, her knuckles white as she gripped something, something out of Ahsoka’s sight. With a sigh, she lifted it and set it on the table. Anakin clearly recognized it, and looked at her, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“When Revis blinded me, he left me, left what he and I had built. _I loved him,_ Anakin. I would have killed for him. I,” she paused, gathering herself and trying to ignore the emotion building up in her chest, “I _did_ kill for him, and all because I loved him. But there is one game you can play to make him trust you; and that is to _love him._ Unconditionally. Kill for him, fight for him, and sleep with him; give him something to love, and he’ll love you back. Then you can tear him apart.” Ronin ignited the item, and Ahsoka discovered it to be a saber, red-bladed and dual-edged. _Maul’s saber._ “You’ll fall, Anakin, and you will have to rise out of it.”

Anakin shook his head. “No. I won’t do that. The Jedi are my _life,_ Ronin. I’ll just kill him.”

Ronin’s hand snatched out at his shoulder, grabbing the fabric and pulling him in over the bar. Ahsoka panicked, her green saber in her hand as she prepared to leap to the defense of her master. _“Anakin,_ you’re not _getting it,_ ” she snarled, and then dropped him, the red and green lights washing everything in an interesting shade of brown. “I’ll do it myself. Forget I said anything.”

The room was tense, Ronin fuming as she furiously scrubbed at the mugs on the counter, tears threatening to stream down her face. The red staff spluttered out and died, and Ahsoka’s saber was put away as well, leaving the room an uncomfortable silence.

Anakin’s face was tight, sheet white. His fingers opened and closed, digging half-moons of blood into his palms, and then said, “What happens if I do fall?”

“What does it matter, you said you wouldn’t do it,” she spat out. “Go on, Anakin. If you love your Jedi so much, you tell them to teach you how to fight a Sith who knows the Force better than you can ever hope to know.” She turned from Anakin to Ahsoka, sighing. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka. Our dynamic is not usually this violent, I assure you. The return of Revis is bad news for us all.” She cocked her head, then her eyes flashed open with fear. “Leave. Now. Leave and come back in two hours.”

“Ronin?” Anakin asked as she set the mug down and picked up her saber. “What’s wrong?”

A small smirk graced her face. “I haven’t fought in so long, Anakin. Go, I’ll be fine. Listen to my instruction, then come back.” Ronin made her way to the center of the room and sat down, legs crossed. “Go, Anakin, or I will make sure you leave.”

Anakin begrudgingly nodded after some hesitation, and the two Jedi left the bar. A few minutes later, when they were back on the holorail, Anakin wrapped Ahsoka in his arms. “We will ride around the city, basically to avoid explaining ourselves to the Council,” he told her, and she nodded, drifting off in his arms. When had they last slept, anyway? It seemed like an eternity to him, the Togruta girl’s head slipping down from his chest to his lap.

Anakin followed closely behind her, drifting off into the realm of sleep. Something, he knew, was very, very wrong.


	2. { t w o }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the Sith are fucked up, Anakin has a bit of a pride problem, and Ahsoka is #done with Ronin's shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes hello i'm back  
> I wanted to post this bc I rather liked this chapter and I would keep fucking with it if I didn't, so here it is.  
> (Also, for content warnings: There is some pretty ritualistic cutting in this scene. If you have a history of cutting, and fear this might trigger a relapse, please read until you read the line " His entire body ached, burned, as if it still was experiencing its injuries." and continue at the section break below. Stay safe, my lovelies.)  
> ((I'll also start putting the notes at end of chapters except for content warnings.))

_{ due to requests, the iadahp playlist on Spotify: {[x](https://open.spotify.com/user/12158933222/playlist/7GXCF94A6Fp8yLqVw9oa1t) } }_

_Revis would always find that Coruscant was his home, but following Navini back to his homeworld with that runt_ Anakin Skywalker was not his favorite thing of the day.

When he had told his master that Anakin Skywalker was _very_ familiar with her, he seemed troubled, but not surprised. _Do whatever it takes,_ he’d said. _Take care of the masterless Sith and her Jedi friend._

Yeah. He could do that. Sure, no problem.

Inside, Revis would rather cut off his own hand than to _ever_ bring harm to Navini _ever_ again.

“Do you want me to do it?” Ventress asked as he was talking to her from the hangar bay. “I’ll track her down and gut her like an animal. She hurt you, Kenobi. Only _I_ can do that.”

A soft chuckle left his throat. “No, darling. I’ll handle it myself. Once it’s taken care of we can head to Mustafar or something, you pick, and I’ll see what I can do with Sidious for you. He might let me keep you around as a tool for a while, as a companion on more.... _Challenging_ missions, but we both know you have _very_ little patience.”

“Thank the Count for that, not me.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault, dearest.” Kenobi leaned back in his seat, trying to shake himself of his doubts as his swollen knuckles, bloodied and bruised, were shoved under ice once again, the man grimacing. Ventress’ eyes softened in the holo, seeming to understand what the man consciously put himself through. A delicate sigh left her throat in the silence before she spoke.

“I know this hurts, Kenobi. But if you get over this, you will be the strongest man I’ve ever known.” Her voice softened now, too, and she added, “And even if you don’t complete the mission, I will _not_ think less of you for it. You are a Sith. You are built on your passions and your desires, your anger and your batshit crazy instincts, and everything wired into you tells you to protect her, even after what happened between the two of you.”

Revis nodded at her words, understanding what she was saying. “Thank you, Ventress.”

She snorted, sipping at a cup of tea. “For what?”

“For standing by me through this. I know you’re not the sappy type, and neither am I, but--”

“Oh, for Force’s sake, Kenobi, just shut up. I get it, you’re grateful. I’ll just add it to the reasons why you owe me one,” she teased, and he laughed. This was good. This _felt_ good.

After the two said their goodbyes, Kenobi vanished into the streets of Coruscant, his hood up and following the signature he used to know so, so well. It had changed, like the owner. A foreigner now owned it, a foreigner in a familiar body. If he closed his eyes and could will the image to his mind, he could likely trace out all the scars on her muscular body prior to the last time they saw each other, but he chose not to. This was a ghost he had to face on his own, not haunted by the melodies of her voice.

He knocked on the door to the bar, hiding his surprise at seeing her as a _bar owner._ Sure, it provided her with control and power, but he wondered what else she got from it. It didn’t open, obviously, and he sighed, reaching with the Force and popping the lock. She was in there, he knew it.

He swung open the door to see her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, his former master’s sabers in her hand. “Hello, dearest,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He felt her anger. He felt her betrayal. But they were his own, too. She had always been his mirror, reflecting who he was and how he treated her. From the time she was a young Jedi Padawan to his Sith weapon to his lover, she had mirrored him. Even after all the years between the last times they’d seen each other, it still seemed to be true.

“You’ve come to kill me,” she muttered, teal hair falling across her eyes.

“That was not the intention, but knowing you....” he looked away, pain in his voice. Ronin’s silvery gold eyes pierced his very soul, exposing his sins and injustices. He had forgotten what it was like being in her presence, the Force itself seeming to originate from her. She always had the very soul of the galaxy on her shoulders, carried proudly with the knowledge of the Force users behind her. He envied her, in a way. It was a pity she left his side, but he couldn't say he was surprised. “I won’t take joy in your death.”

She stood, igniting the sabers, each move as deliberate as she always was. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

*~*~*

_“Now tell me, Ronin,” a velvet-smooth voice cooed, out of Anakin’s point of vision. A beat-up Ronin sat, similar to the position he had left her in, in a corner, eyes focused lower and chest heaving. “Where is your Jedi friend? What have you told him?”_

_“What does it matter to you?” she hissed out finally. “He’s gone. So is everyone else that we ever wanted to kill. Except, maybe, for each other,” she added, her voice sharp and pointed despite the fatigue in her tone._

_“Yes, well,” the voice hummed, amused, and the boots of the speaker stepped into vision, black leather and finely crafted, “you see, former apprentice, someone is here, right now, watching this. I feel them. I’m sure you do, too. You’re only stronger than the last time we met; you’ve been practicing. I’m proud.” He knelt down, staring at her, elbows resting on his knees. There was some sort of emotion in his voice, something aside from the manipulation and anger. Familiar red hair and gold eyes greeted him as the Sith entered his line of sight, and Anakin panicked, trying to control his racing heartbeat._

_Ronin’s eyes widened, and she looked right at Anakin, fury in her eyes. Fury, Anakin realized, and fear. “Anakin,” Ronin shouted, “get out of here! Leave! I told you not to come back!”_

_For the record, Anakin wanted to say, he wasn’t intentionally here in the first place. “Aaah, we have a name,” Revis smiled, and turned to look towards Anakin. “Anakin….. Anakin Skywalker, perhaps? Yes, indeed, that is your name…. She loves you!” He turned to Ronin, a malicious look in his eyes. “And she loves me. How intriguing, indeed.”_

_“Lies. I don’t love you. I never did,” she howled, and Revis laughed, though it was a warm laugh. He was being_ friendly. _What kind of sick reality was this?_

 _“Darling,_ please _, try to control your lies for one moment so I can speak to your friend.” He turned back towards Anakin, smiling. “We meet again, Chosen One. By now your Council has been told, and they know of me, and therefore, you likely know who I am. I know Ronin didn’t tell you; she’s good at keeping secrets, but not from the one who taught her how to keep them.” Revis tsk’d at her, then smiled again. “I never got to thank you for killing my Master. I appreciate that. However, I was as upset over Master Jinn’s death as you.” His voice dropped the malicious tone, and he looked away. “I have much I wish I could had said to him. Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied at the time of the battle of Geonosis, looking for this one.” He gestured to Ronin, and sighed. “If you wish to have your friend back, come back to the bar in an hour. Just you…. And maybe your Padawan, if you’re feeling cowardly. I will be waiting.”_

Anakin awoke with a start, in a cold sweat, and Ahsoka staring, confused, up at her master from where she had been sleeping in his lap. “What happened?”

“Ronin. She’s in trouble,” Anakin murmured. “Revis—he’s there. He’ll kill her if we don’t go,” he stuttered, his breath coming in short gasps as he attempted to stabilize his vitals. Alarm filled her gaze, the sixteen-year-old immediately into battle mode.

Ahsoka sat up, gripping Anakin’s shoulders in her hands. “Listen, Anakin,” she murmured, “tell me what you saw. Everything.”

Her warm violet eyes begged him to tell her the truth, and the Togruta, now almost as tall as Anakin, was folded up into the tiniest of balls, trying to get him to reply.

Instead of verbally explaining everything, Anakin just pushed it through the bond the two of them shared, the normally warm and fuzzy feeling now just dark and terrifying. Her eyes went wide as the scene played out in her head, hand covering her mouth, and then she just nodded. “Then I think this is our stop,” she hummed, getting up and pulling Anakin with her.

She strode down the streets, brandishing her lightsaber and threatening anyone that got in their way. Anakin just followed numbly, icy blue eyes fixed on his Padawan’s feet. Ahsoka heard him muttering, but didn’t think anything of it.

Ahsoka kicked down the door to the bar, finding it trashed and seemingly empty, but her instincts knew better.

“Ahsoka,” a gruff voice, raw and near death, called, belonging to Ronin, who was thrown halfway across the bar. “Leave…. It’s a trap….” She said a few other things in a language Ahsoka didn’t identify, but when the Padawan didn’t move, a black saber hilt was rolled towards her. _Maul’s saber._

 _Use it,_ Ronin said in her head. _I will not die today, young one._

 _You know,_ Ahsoka smirked, _I’m only half your age._

_That is a lifetime’s worth of experience to catch up on, then._

Something told the Padawan she was right.

Ahsoka picked up the saber staff and dove out of the way when a piece of metal came flying at her, seemingly from nowhere. Anakin leapt forward, rushing to her defense, blue saber ignited in twitching fury. “Not my Padawan,” he snarled, and Ahsoka crept around the bar to Ronin, dragging her down onto the floor behind it.

 _Padawan, what are you doing?_ Ronin asked her, eyes warily focused on hers, unfocused but yet serene.

 _Just stay quiet._ Ahsoka reached out with the Force, focusing healing injuries on the deadly wounds that ravaged Ronin’s body; the girl passed out in her arms, Ronin’s teal hair singed in many places. Ahsoka looked up over the edge of the bar, seeing a red blade and a blue, Ronin going limp in her arms, her signature muddled but alive. She would be out for a while.

 _Stay there,_ Anakin snarled at her, and she did as she was told, the Sith and the Jedi circling each other.

“You came with your Padawan; I figured as much. Jedi are _always_ cowards,” he spat at him, a thick Coruscanti accent lacing the air. She felt his anger, his fury, his sense of _I expected nothing less_. Ahsoka swallowed her fear, watching the two duel, Soresu and Shii-Cho, Form Three and Form One, Sith and Jedi.

It was terrifying, the deadly accuracy between these two. Anakin’s saber skills had always been lethal, unmatched by Jedi, but apparently this Sith was better than him, simply _toying_ with him. Red and blue sparks went flying, and Ahsoka scrambled for the coupler she had in her bag for emergencies, when Anakin fucked up and she needed some extra help. This time, though, it would be a different story. Ahsoka tossed the materials to Anakin, who quickly flew together a staff, just in time to block the next attack. The green and blue sabers spun in a teal arc, clashing with the red in a smooth transition to Juyo, creating a deadly dynamic.

The next section of the battle seemed to go on forever, though in reality it only lasted for a few seconds. Anakin was struck across the eye, and the recoil from his attack sent him flying into a bar table. He did not arise, though he was still alive, breathing even though pained.

“Now, young Padawan, we can settle this amicably,” the Sith cooed, and Ahsoka looked at Ronin, remembering what she had been told. She looked down at Ronin, who was sound asleep, and her body shook with the adrenaline.

She picked up Maul’s saber, the metal comforting in her unsteady hand, and jumped up on the bar with the blade ignited, studying the Sith Lord before her. _“I’m no Sith,_ ” she hissed out, jumping down with a classic Ataru downward strike. Red met red, and the Sith smiled under the light.

“Denouncing the Sith already, are you? Yet you use a Sith blade—or did Ronin give you hers, _stolen_ from my master?” A sharp cut came at her gut, but she caught it and vaulted over him, cutting him across the shoulder.

He hissed a bit, but smiled. “You fight better than your Master does, young one.”

“I had a good teacher,” Ahsoka snarled back, and then smirked smugly. _Mind games, Sith? I’ll show you kriffing mind games._ “I wish you could say the same, _Sith._ ”

“What are you implying, dear one?” Revis laughed, parrying her strike and trying to punch back at her nose. She blocked it with the hilt of her saber, kicking the Sith back out of her way and spinning at him once again.

Ronin was awake now, groggily holding herself up on the bar as if she were watching. Her face was carefully controlled, but she reached out to Ahsoka, the familiar danger of Ronin’s mind brushing against the safe serenity of her own. Ahsoka let her in on instinct, and Ronin whispered commands in her ear like a raven into the ear of a god, secrets that she wasn’t supposed to know, items of juicy information that fed her focus. Colors began to shift, faces began to fade, but she barely noticed. Righteous fury and peace flooded her body, eyes narrowed as she threw more and more techniques at the Sith, the redhead struggling to keep up with the speed and ferocity of her attacks.

The Sith finally shoved Ahsoka off, panting and no longer smiling. He was genuinely worried now, Ahsoka could feel it; his energies pulsed sickly greens and yellows, and his figure was blurred out, a hazy gray mess, more black than white, and Ahsoka looked down at herself, a blazing white figure. _What is this?_ Ahsoka asked Ronin.

 _This is how I’ve learned to see, and it seems you have too,_ Ronin smiled proudly, and moments later, ten Jedi burst through the door, sabers blazing and eyeing the Sith.

The ginger looked around at his opponents, seeing Maze Windu’s familiar purple blade, and he sighed, extinguishing his blade. “I know when I’m beaten,” he hummed, dropping his saber and holding his hands up.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are under arrest by the authority of the Republic for treason and murder of the first degree, on twenty-six accounts,” Mace grunted, shackles being clasped on him as Ahsoka watched. Anakin hauled himself off the remains of the table, using Ahsoka as a leaning crutch, and hobbled over to the Sith.

“I told you we would meet again,” Obi-Wan hissed, a smile on his face, feral and lethal.

“This time tomorrow you will be dead,” Anakin spat back. “I do believe your death is ten years overdue, and in the name of Master Jinn, I do believe he would appreciate witnessing a traitor’s death.”

Kenobi snorted. “This is not the last time we will meet, _Jedi,_ and your little friend Ronin will tell you that. Oh, and Ahsoka, dear one,” Kenobi continued, “those sabers belong to _me._ ”

“Not anymore,” Ahsoka grumbled, glaring at the Sith right in his golden, cold eyes. The ginger smiled, shaking his head at her snarky response.

“There’s hope for you yet, Padawan,” he smiled, cracking his neck. Kit Fisto glared at him, but did not reprimand him on his comment.

Ronin picked up a board, using it as a walking stick as she found her way to her friends. She took the other side of Anakin, eyes now clear and alert, and as the Jedi moved to take Kenobi away, he stopped them, turning to face her. “Oh, Mariana,” Kenobi sighed, extending a hand to her face. “You could have been so powerful; you could have brought this galaxy to its knees.”

He was carted away, leaving Ronin staring furiously at the place he had last been felt by her.

“What did he call you?” Anakin asked Ronin, and just as she was about to answer, Master Luminara walked up to them. Ronin paled, looking away, and Luminara sighed at the two Jedi in her presence.

“Ahsoka Tano and Master Skywalker, if you two ever _think_ about going after a Sith on your own ever again, I will personally string you up by your toes and gut you two like the animals you are,” she snarled, and a soft snort left Ronin’s throat, drawing attention to her.

“Who are you, young one?” Luminara asked, and Ronin turned to her and smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She felt different, Anakin realized. Conflicted, confused, hurt, unsure—all things that didn’t represent Ronin, or the woman he’d grown to admire. The Force, which was usually in a confident, calm swirl about her, was now a raging storm of confusion and uncertainty, but he doubted any of the Masters who didn’t know her would be able to tell. She was wiser beyond her years.

“I’m no younger than you, Unduli,” she smiled sadly.

The shock that registered on Luminara’s face as she reached out to touch the scar that was across Ronin’s face was adamant, as if she hadn’t seen it. “Mariana Chayten?” she breathed. “You’re alive? After all these years?”

“I’m sorry, Lum. I had to leave the Order; you know that.” Ronin looked away, Luminara’s hand shaking in shocked fury, confusion welling at the surface.

Anakin watched as this exchange went over, the rest of the remaining Jedi surrounding them. For once, he wasn’t the target of their anger, though he wasn’t exactly pleased with how this was going. He opened his mouth to speak, but a simple reshift of how Ahsoka was supporting him knocked the wind from him and ruined that plan.

“You’re…. You’re a _traitor,_ ” Luminara breathed. “My friend, a traitor!”

“So that’s the lie the Council fed you,” Ronin grunted, rolling her eyes as she wiped away blood from her forehead. “Obviously, I’m a Sith that can’t be trusted, right? A rogue operator, destined to drive disorder into the galaxy. Is that what they told you?” Her voice rose with every word, Luminara quailing in the ruse Ronin put out. “ _Is that what you see here?_ ”

“Ronin. Enough,” Anakin attempted to console, breathless and exhausted, and Ronin shook her head, releasing Anakin and attempting to balance on her own.

“Ahsoka should have let me die; it would have been more pleasurable than dealing with this,” Ronin grunted, trying to get her shit together.

Kit Fisto looked over from his position behind Luminara, snarling, “So that’s why you left us? All of us? Our leader, our caretaker?”

Anakin looked around, confused, as the others nodded in agreement; and then Anakin realized _they were all from the same Initiate group._ Understanding flooded Ahsoka’s mind as he shared this information, the strange day growing stranger

“You _left us,_ Mari. We needed you,” Luminara breathed.

Ronin smiled, a sad, distorted thing that didn’t reach her eyes. Anakin realized none of her smiles did anymore. “That’s part of why I left, Lum, Kit; you were _attached_ to me. If you knew I was still alive, that I had gone where I had, been who I was, you would have been devastated. So I lied. I faked my own death and I sought out knowledge, of the Force, of the Jedi and Sith and the old Gray. I fell and rose, and here I am, saving lives…. Yes, I am alive, but Mariana Chayten is dead. She died when I left the Order.” Her voice was starting to crack now, then she said, “I will help you get Anakin onto the medcart, then I have a bar to clean up, and a partner to welcome home.”

“You’re married?” Kit asked, and Ronin shrugged.

“Not yet. Maybe one day, when I manage to break my childhood free of who I wish to become. There’s no room for that “no attachment” bullshit anymore, Lum. You all know that.” They helped Anakin to the medcart, Ronin squeezing Anakin’s hand. “Watch yourself, Skywalker. Revis is deadlier than you can imagine.”

“What would you know about Revis?” Luminara asked, and Ronin smiled sadly, shoulders slumped.

“What would you know about the Force?” She shot back, though it wasn’t really a threat or a reprimand, and then extended her hand to Ahsoka. “My sabers, please.” Ahsoka dropped them in her hand after a moment of hesitation, watching in awe as the former Jedi sauntered into her bar, transparisteel door closing behind her despite the shattered pane.

 _She really is something else,_ Ahsoka gaped, watching as her partner Alex came back to the shop, staring in shock at all the Jedi and the damage to the store. Ronin simply handed them a broom, eyes tired, and their eyes shot up. A tight lip from their partner, though, silenced their confusion for a moment as the Jedi prepared to leave.

Luminara clapped Ahsoka on the shoulder, and Kit sighed. “She’s better now than she ever was, Padawan Tano. Tread lightly, for she was your age when she left us.”

“At least she had friends,” Ahsoka murmured, jumping into the medcart with Anakin and gripping his hand.

Anakin fixed a blue eye on his Padawan, watching as she went deep in thought. Finally, she said, “Do you think she has a point, Master?”

“Ahsoka, you’re considering treason,” Anakin scolded, his voice weak and his skin pale.

“When I was fighting Kenobi, I saw the way she saw. She didn’t, like, take control of my body or anything, but her Force presence was so _strong_ that she taught me to see like she does, to pick apart his defense as if he was the one who had taught me everything I knew. I was in _his_ head too, Master, and I _won._ I used a Sith blade, and I _won._ You can't tell me nothing happened, I feel different. I feel stronger. I can feel it in my blood, in my bones; it's the most _right_ anything has ever felt.” Her blue eyes went to Anakin’s. “Please. I'm scared.”

Anakin closed his eyes, sighing. He had long since been considering leaving the Order, to be outside the thumb of the Jedi, but didn’t want to know what that entailed, and didn’t want to leave thousands dead or dying. And now, this complicated his  life further. “What do you want me to say, Ahsoka?”

“That I’m not crazy,” she said faintly, her eyes scared and timid.

Anakin closed his eyes and didn’t reply. He didn’t know where he stood; how could he expect his Padawan to know?

“Ahsoka,” he finally said as they rounded the corner to the Temple, and his Padawan, so close to her knighthood, looked at him, eyes shattered and her spirits low. “Where you go, I go, remember?”

Ahsoka perked up a bit, smiling. “I understand.”

As the other Masters loaded Anakin onto a stretcher and took him to the medbay, he smiled and waved his response, Master Luminara leaning up against the younger girl in a rare display of emotion, as if asking for sympathy. Ahsoka turned and wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering, “It’s normal to feel betrayed, Master Luminara. It’s important that you don’t do anything rash.”

“Thank you for your advice, Padawan Tano. I will retire to my rooms before I give report to the rest of the Council…. Though I feel Master Windu most likely already has informed them.” Luminara had a defeated look on her face, her eyes tired. Ahsoka briefly wondered if the encounter with Ronin had added ten years to her life.

“I believe that’s a good plan,” Ahsoka carefully replied, and as the master began walking away, Ahsoka asked, “How did you know we needed your help?”

Luminara smiled. “Your reckless Master commed for help,” she called back, then vanished up the steps of the Temple.

Ahsoka smiled as she left, and then sat on the steps of the Temple, watching and waiting. She meditated there, the passerby of Coruscant staring at her as they moved past, attempting to connect with the Force in the same way she had. Her breathing and heart rate slowed, became more even, and she found it, the same thing she had in that bar. Her eyes snapped open, a silvery blue compared to their usual color, and she saw.

In the medbay, an unconscious Anakin stirred, feeling his Padawan suddenly connect to the Force in its fullest, drawing on the pure, uncensored version that was banned from use of the Jedi. A part of him was proud, bubbling in his gut like a father would pride over his daughter, but the Jedi in him felt his heart collapse. Ahsoka ghosted over him, sending him calming emotions and kind thoughts, lulling him back to sleep, the ghost of a smile on his face.

In the cells, Sith Lord Revis smiled, his eyes closed, hands chained together in front of him. He felt her frustration, but as she threw herself more and more into the Force, she grew in power, in intensity, sitting on the steps of the Temple. Ahsoka sat in front of him, glaring, but observing curiously. She saw in his mind, in his soul, and knew the atrocities he’d committed. Yet, she couldn’t bring to hate him for what he had done; only for what he had personally done to Anakin, nearly killing him. She left as quickly as she came, leaving Kenobi a smug mess. Wordlessly, Revis latched onto the remainder of the power Ahsoka left behind, snapping his restraints and opening the door, slinking off into the night.

Ten miles away, Ronin was cleaning up her bar, taking a breath as she felt the surge from the Padawan, leaning against the damaged wood as Ahsoka’s presence became stronger around her. _I won’t forget what you told me,_ she heard Ahsoka hum, though her voice sang with thousands others, voices of her ancestors that had been sent into the Force speaking with her as if she were them, and they were her. Ronin smiled, pride welling within her, and for the first time in ten years, she felt _safe._

Ahsoka returned to herself, but her eyes didn’t change color, and her vision didn’t either. Slowly, carefully, she extracted herself from the Force, feeling empty and tired, but proud of what she had accomplished.

 _I’m no Sith,_ she said to herself, but as she ascended the steps to the Temple, she continued, _but I’m no Jedi either_.

*~*~*

 _Sneaking out was easy. However, for Revis, sneaking back into his own Coruscanti home was not as easy as he_ thought it would be.

Ventress threw a large pillow at him as he entered the room, the shocked Sith allowing it to bounce harmlessly off his chest as he rubbed at sore wrists. “Where were you?” Ventress snarled, and before he could answer, she howled, “ _I was worried sick!!_ No word! No contact! For all I knew you were _dead!_ ”

Revis took a deep sigh, watching as her anger simmered down a bit. “It didn’t go according to plan. Orders were to take down Skywalker, Chayten, and Tano. Skywalker is a walking dead man, but he’ll live.” Revis angrily threw his gloves aside, storming into the kitchen to put water on the stove. He was going to have a damned cup of tea, or so help him someone will _die._ Ventress stood there in an angry shadow, fuming, but not to the boiling red that Revis was.

“Kenobi, I was just worried--”

“Never mind you!” He howled, frustration clear in his tone. “She only got _stronger._ She got _better._ I bested her in combat, which isn’t much of a feat because she’d _kriffing blind,_ but she beat me in the mind game. Skywalker was easy to take care of; too wounded from the last time we fought to put up too much of a fight, but his Padawan!” He growled, stalking like a rabid animal. “His Padawan was able to stall me until more Jedi arrived. One of them must have commed for help.” With that final admission, he roared with anger, a fist going through the plaster of his wall.

Ventress watched him with an even gaze as he pulled his hand gingerly out of the wall, the bruised and bloodied bone growing darker by the second. With a few last pants of anger, the fight died out of his eyes, and he crumpled on the floor, sobbing. The kettle on the stove whistled loudly, and when Kenobi made no move to go get it, she went herself, her skirts drifting against the marble floors in an elegance unseen by Revis previously. She poured the water over the loose chamomile tea, stirring it gently with a spoon, and then set it on the floor across from Kenobi, crossing her legs and waiting for him to calm down enough.

_Chamomile: rest._

After a few minutes, his hand reached out and gently picked the porcelain cup up, holding it in his shaking hands. Ventress took that as a good sign, scooting to his side and pulling him into a gentle embrace. The ginger leaned into her touch, warm tears staining her top. “Sorry,” he mumbled, sipping at his tea. She only hummed out a forgiving sentiment, patting his head gently. After some time had passed, he sat up, wiping at his cheeks, eyes now red and bloodshot. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

She paused, taking some time to reflect on his statement, and then Ventress shrugged. “Kenobi, you are the bravest man I know. You’ve openly defied Dooku by standing alongside me; you’ve looked _twelve_ Jedi in the eye and realized that while you were beat, it was not the end. You are The Negotiator, Kenobi. You are more than Darth Revis and what the Sith made you. You are more than Obi-Wan Kenobi and what the Jedi made you. You are more than what Navini believes you to be. And most importantly, Kenobi,” she added, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “you are my closest friend. I would trust you with my life; in fact, I am.”

He nodded, downing the rest of his tea in one gulp. “Thanks, Ventress.”

“No problem, shithead.”

He stood, stretching, and looked with disdain at the large, crumpling hole in the wall. “Well, add that to the list of things I’ve done wrong in the last twenty-four-hours.”

Ventress snorted, taking Kenobi’s hand as she hauled herself up. “Feel better?”

“If you consider not wanting to cry or put another hole in the wall ‘feeling better’ then yes, yes I am.” He stretched again, and this time, a loud _pop_ echoed through the room, followed by a sigh of relief. “Yes. I am feeling _much_ better.”

She only laughed, and helped him patch up the hole before they left, leaving his Coruscant home long in the distance. His hand was light on her shoulder as they walked, the two friends grinning and smiling at each other. Blood dripped down Kenobi’s hand to the duracrete that paved the sidewalks, staining his pale fingers a deep red as they walked to the hangar, the faint trail of drying blood the only remnant of the two’s presence as the ship faded from the sky.

Upon their arrival on Mustafar, Kenobi gave Ventress vague instructions to empty the supplies out of the ship and make stock; if she needed to go get more, he’d said, to take the credit stash and get whatever was needed.

“And where are you going?” She snapped at his shrinking figure, and he paused, turning around.

“I have to repent for my mistakes,” he grumbled, and slunk into the compound.

In the compound, the dirty red-carpeted halls needed a good cleaning, but he walked past the spider webs and cobwebs, the dust bunnies the size of rats in the corners, heading for an all-too-familiar iron door in the very back of the compound. He pushed the door open with the Force, the rusted hinges creaking with the effort.

He slunk in, closing the door behind him and falling to his knees. An obsidian ritual knife, incense, and gauze sat, prepared on the altar in front of him. Beyond that, a hologram of his Master appeared, looking down at him with distaste. _“Revis…. You have failed me,”_ he growled, gold eyes glinting under the shade of his hood.

“I am sorry, Master.” Kenobi pressed his forehead to the dirty floor, eyes screwed tight. “I have failed you.”

A laugh. Slow, maniacal, sadistic. _“Yes…. Well. I have to punish you, now don’t I?”_

Kenobi gulped, trying to suppress his screams of pain as Sidious ripped him apart mentally, forcing his way into every intimate part of his mind. Every painful memory, every bodily ache he’d ever had, was thrust upon him at once, leaving him in crippling pain.

He felt every cut of the blades, of the lightsabers, of shrapnel and blaster bolts, of emotional wounds, of heartbreak and broken bones, of lightning and of fists. If he screamed, he didn’t remember.

He must have laid there for hours, or so it felt. When he stood, the image of his master was long gone, but the pain remained. His entire body ached, _burned_ , as if it still was experiencing its injuries.

He dragged himself to the altar, murmuring in the Sith language as he lit the incense sticks. “I have failed you, Sith of Old,” he murmured, waving his hand through the smouldering sticks with a practiced hand. “My mission was a failure.” He heard nothing in response, but he knew the ceremony. He knew it all too well, in fact.

The knife weighed heavily in his hand, the cool bone handle almost seemingly made of lead. He rolled up his dark sleeve, the left forearm pale with silvered scars. He tested the blade with the pad of his thumb, the sharp pain easing his tremors, easing his mind. Blood pooled around the brittle blade, the dry stone now wet.

“Forgive me, Masters,” he murmured, his eyes locked on the blade as he relaxed his arm. “Show me the power, once again. Show me what my weaknesses are. Make me strong again.”

He drew the blade, deep and long, across the flesh of his arm, taking a deep breath as the crimson blood dripped onto the black stone altar, cut from the glistening rock of Mustafar. Again, and again, and again, letting the unnaturally sharp blade mar his skin, feeling the pain of it all. Six cuts on his left, and he moved to his right.

Five cuts in, and his hand twitched, making the cut twice as deep and longer than it should have been. He hissed in a breath, but did not make any other acknowledgement of his sudden pain.

He took a breath, shaking the fatigue from his body as his blood, still running fresh, dripped from the altar and to the floor. It didn’t fade, but he did take a breath, centering himself in the pain and in the Force, feeling the darkness swirl around him with a pleased purr, strengthening his mind and soul. It filled him to the brim, filling him with dark secrets and whispers of forbidden knowledge, so powerful, so _addicting,_ just like the pain.

When it faded, he wrapped his forearms in gauze, and called on the Force to help him out of the room. Ventress was waiting outside the door, cleaning under her nails with a knife. “Kenobi!” She gasped when she saw him, rushing to his side.

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, but his eyes were seeing double, his heart racing. “Did it get cold in here, or is it just me?”

With that, he collapsed into her arms, and she caught him, cradling his head in her lap as she gently slapped his cheek, pulling the man back to the conscious world. “Kenobi, wake up, wake up,” she murmured, and his eyes fluttered open.

“I need water,” he murmured. “And food.”

“And rest,” she commented, letting the man lean on her as they walked to a room and laid him on the bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, and she ran off, her blue eyes worried and her body tense. He slipped in and out of consciousness, but he knew, deep down, that the Force was pleased with his offering.

*~*~*

_Three Months Later_

_Ahsoka Tano stood in front of the Jedi Council,_ no longer a Padawan. Anakin looked at her from his seat on the Council circuit, pride welling in his heart and his eyes. Ahsoka was now seventeen, young for a Knight but she had earned her position; a Padawan for five years, she had excelled at everything under the tutelage of her former master, and now, the Council imparted their decision.

“Due to your _unbelievable_ dynamic together,” Mace begrudgingly said, “the Council, with Knight Skywalker having no vote, has decided that you two are to remain partners for the duration of this war, and therefore, we will not break your bond. It is imperative that you two are able to function as a cohesive unit as you have in the past.”

“Thank you, Master Windu,” Ahsoka carefully said.

“Your sudden excel in mastery of the Force drove us to this conclusion, Knight Tano, not by any begging of your Master to get you off his hands,” Master Mundi joked, and the rest of the Council allowed a small laugh. In the past months, wherever Ahsoka was, was the calmest, most serene spot in the Temple. Many Initiates and younglings had taken a liking to her for that exact reason, and Anakin sensed a number of them outside waiting for Ahsoka to come back and tell them what happened.

The Togruta clutched her Padawan chain in her hands, and smiled, gently watching as the Masters officially knighted her. She was dismissed from the Council, and the Council dispersed, Anakin following his former Padawan out into the hall. The tall girl was tackled under the weight of eight Initiates, all of them cheering for her. Anakin chuckled in the doorway, saying, “Ahsoka, do you need some help?”

“Master!” Ahsoka beamed, and then her eyebrows furrowed as she caught her mistake. “I mean, uh, Knight Skywalker,” she corrected, and then howled with laughter. “I am _never_ calling you that,” she laughed, and the other Initiates had passed their mild panic off as entertainment, a few running to him and hugging him, pressing their faces into his legs.

He smiled, running his hands through their hair, and then said, “Snips, I think Skyguy will do just fine.”

Ahsoka beamed, and stood, the other children moving aside as she wrapped him in a tight hug, saying, “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Anakin smiled. “You know who else needs to know?”

“Ronin?” she asked hopefully.

“Ronin,” Anakin agreed, and she cheered, hugging all the Initates goodbye as she bounced around. They left, in their Jedi garb, Ahsoka prancing about the streets of Coruscant full of joy and excitement, Anakin calmly watching her as she danced around him, their contested connection filled with her overwhelming emotion. Anakin kept a firm grip on his, though, still nursing the injuries given to him by the Sith.

“Ahsoka, I’m so proud of you,” Ronin exclaimed, her silvery eyes focused elsewhere as the new Knight bounded into her bar.

“How’d you know?” Ahsoka asked, and Anakin chuckled.

“I’m sure most of Coruscant’s Force-sensitives know by now,” Anakin laughed, and they sat at the bar, Ronin pouring them each a shot. “What are we drinking?”

“Twi’lek liquor; some of the best I have,” Ronin winked, and poured one for Ahsoka too.

“Didn’t you say drinking was bad for you?” Ahsoka playfully said, and Ronin laughed.

“That’s ‘cause it is, young one,” Ronin sniffed, raising her glass. “To Ahsoka! May many more joyful moments riddle your life, young one!”

Anakin muttered a “cheers” and slammed the liquor down, Ahsoka following suit. She coughed and spluttered as it hit the back of her throat, Ronin not being as harsh with the liquor as her two companions had. The Jedi and former Padawan gave Ahsoka a look, then did their best to contain their laughter.

Once Ahsoka had recovered, she glared at them and cleared her throat. “Remind me to never drink again,” she spat, eyeing the now-empty shot glass and trying to shove aside the burning in her throat.

Ronin brushed aside her black bangs, the fresh dye bright on her hair as she sighed. “Agh. Has the Order heard anything about Revis since he escaped?”

Ahsoka paled and looked away; Anakin simply shook his head, and Ronin caught Ahsoka’s sudden discomfort.

“Ahsoka,” Ronin warned, “what did you do?”

“Nothing!” She protested, and Ronin gave her a _look._ The _look_ that Anakin would have given her when she was a new youngling, still earning her experience, still fighting alongside Rex and the other Clones, or when she had eaten the last of his chocolate without asking; it was a look she hadn’t gotten in a while, and now she was getting it from Ronin. “I’m serious,” she said, “I didn’t do anything. Not intentionally.”

Just as the two of them were about to reply, Anakin’s comm buzzed, and his sharp blue eyes pierced Ahsoka’s. “We will finish this discussion later,” he snarled, and then opened up the comm.

“Knight Skywalker, is Knight Tano with you?” the familiar face of Mace Windu sniffed in the blue hologram of the comm. Anakin did his best to shove aside his emotion and contempt for the man. Mace Windu never liked Anakin, and the feeling was mutual.

“Yes, she is, as is Mari,” Anakin replied tightly. Ronin flinched at the sound of her old name, and Anakin sent her an apologetic glance, sending apologetic waves through the Force.

“Good. I have a mission for the three of you. Regrettably, as I’m sure all of you know, traitor Obi-Wan Kenobi escaped from our prisons here on Coruscant and has been spotted in the Dagobah system. We want the three of you to go after him, unofficially.”

“So if we get fucked over no one will come help us,” Ronin stated dryly, her face irritated but otherwise expressionless.

“That is correct, Chayten, and watch your language. Clearly you've spent too much time unchecked, because no student of mine _ever_ had that mouth.”

Anakin watched as she flinched, retreating into herself. “Yes, Master Windu. My apologies,” she replied quietly, and Ahsoka gave Anakin a confused look. _Student of mine?_ Ahsoka mouthed, and Anakin shrugged in the same confused look she had given her.

If Mace saw their confusion, he didn't comment on it. He only shifted his gaze back to Skywalker, his voice grave. “Furthermore, Skywalker, Tano, you two will not be in charge on this mission either. Mariana Chayten will, due to her…. _Relations_ with the Sith Lord Revis. Any questions?” The two Jedi exchanged looks, blue meeting blue. Ahsoka’s eyebrows furrowed, mouthing, _History?_ Anakin shrugged in response, a clueless look on his face.

“No, Master Windu,” Ronin sniffed, her voice even, controlled, but weak. “Thank you for your trust.”

Mace chuckled, but it was that chuckle of a man who knew exactly what was at stake and the risks he was taking. “Oh, I don’t trust you, Chayten. But your expertise will, likely, be required. Skywalker, Tano, try not to die. Windu, out.”

Anakin terminated the comm, turning his attention to Ronin, who nibbled at her nails and was muttering to herself. “What was that all about?”

Ronin tried to play off the fact she was shaken, shrugging. “He was one of my Masters at the Temple, as was Qui-Gon and Yoda. None of them really could tolerate me for longer than a year.” Anakin found it hard to believe his master could turn anyone away, but Ronin was a hard person to deal with if one didn't know how. Maybe the Dark in her was too strong for him to control, to train out of her.  

“Is that why you left?” Ahsoka asked quietly, and Ronin only smiled, golden eyes flickering in the dusty, dim light.

“That’s a story for another time, young one. Pack a bag, gather your credits; meet me at my personal hangar at sundown. We’ll be taking the _Storm._ ” Ronin sighed, and then said, “Ohhh, my clients are going to be pissed.”

The two Jedi snorted, saying their goodbyes and leaving the bar to Ronin. What she did, they didn’t care. They had a mission to fulfill.

*~*~*

 _Ahsoka Tano was packing a bag of comfortable non-Jedi clothes, chatting with Rex over the comm. He was_ telling her of the latest training mishap with Echo and Heavy, leaving her giggling as the day wore on.

 _“How long will you be gone, Commander?”_ He asked her, his little blue image betraying his stiff voice.

She paused, her hands dropping. “I don’t know, Rex. I wish I could say.” She winked at him, smiling. “I’m catching up with you on that experience thing, though.” She swore as she knocked a stack of droid parts down, the mess spilling across the tiled floor.

He laughed, a twinkle in his eye. _“Aye, that’s right, Commander. Though, you should watch your language. I hear the Council is really getting upset with you over it.”_

She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but a knock came at her door. She sighed, saying, “Rex, buddy, I gotta go. I’ll comm you when I can.”

_“Best of luck, Commander. May the Force be with you. Rex, out.”_

She didn’t get to say a proper goodbye, but it would have to do, she figured. Ahsoka walked up to the door, opening it to see Barriss Offee standing there, shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes?” she asked, a little bitterness in her tone. Barriss had once been her friend, but like everyone else, she had proved untrustworthy, unforgivably so. Her master had certainly not intentionally taught her to hold grudges, but Ahsoka did anyway. Sometimes spite was enough to keep you alive on the battlefield.

The Mirialan girl shifted again, nervously twitching her fingers. “Ahsoka, before you go. I wanted to give you something,” she rushed out, the timid girl brandishing a wood carving in her hand. It was of a bird, specifically a type of eagle, beautifully carved and polished.

“Why?” Ahsoka asked, gently picking it up out of the girl's hand.

“You're beautifully independent. And I want to apologize,” she hummed, but refused to meet Ahsoka’s gaze.

“You framed me for murder!” Ahsoka exclaimed, her voice louder than she intended. The Padawan flinched, lowering her gaze. “Master Luminara put you up to this, didn't she? So you could make nice with the one who almost killed a Sith and _lived?_ ” Ahsoka snarled again, and then took a breath, reining herself in. “Forgive my outburst, Padawan Offee, but my point still stands.”

“Master Luminara did, yes. She felt my previous apologies were not sufficient,” the girl murmured, and Ahsoka snorted, pushing the wooden carving back into her hand as Anakin approached.

“Keep your apologies, Offee. I don't want them,” Ahsoka snarled, shouldering her bag and pushing past her.

As she fumed silently next to Anakin, who was in all black and leather pants, he patted her on the shoulder. “Ahsoka, you have to let your anger at her go.”

“Then tell her to stay the fuck away from me,” she snapped, and Anakin let her sit in silence as they left.

Back at Ahsoka’s rooms, Barriss Offee stared at the open door, cupping the eagle in her hand. She’d spent hours working on it, making sure it was done right and by hand.

The Mirialan sighed, stepping into the room and scrawling out a note on flimsiplast, her neat handwriting on the white material a stark contrast to the messy piles of droid parts and datapads. On it, Barriss left the little eagle carving, perching it on the corner before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

*~*~*

The two Jedi walked through the streets, watching over their shoulders on the way to meet Ronin as the sun fell at the hangar. Ronin’s eyes were tired, the silvery scars around them just as tight and tense as her shoulders. She was in all black, a black cloak fastened over her shoulders that softly billowed in the breeze as she waited for them. Anakin was dressed similarly, and Ahsoka wore her normal earth-tones, the muddy reds complimenting her skin and eyes.

Maul’s saber was in her hand, and she turned in the general direction of the two Jedi. “You’re late.”

“You didn’t exactly specify an exact time,” Anakin sighed.

Ronin shrugged, moving towards the ship on the center of the hangar like a ghost over a grave, silent, stalking, but there; proud, but forgotten. Anakin briefly wondered what she would have been like as a Padawan; was she as daring, as kind, as defiant as the Ronin he knew?

He elected to ask Master Luminara upon his return, or on a comm to Coruscant, if they were possible.

“New ship?” Anakin asked.

“No, old ship. New mission,” she replied, and it wasn’t hard to miss the tension in the air between the two of them. Ahsoka was _really_ starting to think that something had, indeed, happened between them. Anakin was about to ask exactly what she meant, but kept his mouth shut and moved on, walking up the ramp to the _Storm._

“Are we safe in this ship?” Ahsoka asked, almost as an afterthought.

“This ship was custom crafted with the best parts from Naboo. I highly doubt even _Revis_ can track us in this beauty,” she hummed, settling in the pilot’s seat.

“Not to be offensive, Ronin, but I don’t trust you flying,” Anakin hummed.

“Then sit down and strap in, pretty boy, ‘cause you don’t get to fly this baby,” Ronin muttered, a sly smirk on her face as her snide, almost suggestive comment left her mouth. Ahsoka snorted, settling into the copilot’s seat, half expecting to be shooed off, but Ronin only barked a simple order. “Ahsoka, angle the shields.” Ahsoka took the instruction, surprised, and Ronin lifted the ship out of the hangar and flew off, out of Coruscanti airspace, into the no-man’s-land of hyperspace.

“Is no one going to question why we’re being sent to a Sith planet, designed to _kill_ Jedi,” Ahsoka blurted out, and Ronin laughed, though it was a dry, almost cold laugh.  

“Don’t worry, Ahsoka. We’re not going to Dagobah,” she replied, spinning in her chair to face Anakin. “We’re going home.”

“Mine, or yours?” Anakin asked, resting his hand on the girls’ shoulders. As the blue light of hyperspace welcomed them, he felt a sense of calm, though he couldn’t tell if it was from Ronin herself, or from being in the midst of something there was no going back on.

 _There really is no going back on this,_ Anakin realized, his stomach sinking like a stone. As he looked to Ahsoka, he realized that if they died, the Jedi Council would label them rogue operatives, dark in nature and behavior, tainted by who Ronin was and what she had become.

“Regardless of my Mandalorian heritage, Anakin,” Ronin smiled, her voice bringing him back from his reverie, “I am not _from_ Mandalore.”

Anakin removed his hands, going to sit back down, shaking his head. “Trading one Sith planet for another? No thank you.”

“I’m in charge, remember? My mission, my rules, my plan,” Ronin snapped, the sudden change in her mood shocking him. “Besides, Dagobah isn’t even a Sith planet, doof. Now sit down and be a good Jedi, Anakin, before I _make_ you.”

Anakin opened his mouth to reply, probably something along the lines of _I’d like to see you try_ before shutting his mouth and sitting down behind the pilot’s seat, Ahsoka snickering at her former Master’s sudden silence.

“I’m not following,” Ahsoka muttered, bringing her attention back to the . “Where are we going?”

There was a silence in the ship, the Togruta girl looking between her two mentors, Anakin’s blue eyes fuming and Ronin’s silvery-gold tense, as if watching, waiting, observing. She anxiously awaited a response, almost regretting the

“I was born on Mustafar, Ahsoka,” Ronin finally replied, and Anakin flinched.

 _“Sith_ planets are no good, Ronin,” Anakin murmured, as if terrified.

“Anakin, I _swear to the Force_ if you keep doing that, I will throw you out of this ship and leave you there,” Ronin growled, and Ahsoka almost laughed at the betrayed look on Anakin’s face.

“Fine then,” he grumbled. “I assume you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” Ronin scoffed, seeming offended that he would ask such a question, but her face read, _Shit, do I even have a plan?_

Ahsoka only laughed, eventually dozing off in a corner using her pack as a pillow. Anakin watched as she dozed off, and then sat up front with Ronin.

She cursed under her breath, muttering something to herself that he didn’t understand. “What language was that?” he asked gently, and she smiled. _This is good. This is easy,_ Anakin breathed, and he reached across the two seats to gently grab her hand.

“It was the language of the Sith,” Ronin murmured, looking away. “Revis taught me.”

“What else did he teach you?” Anakin gently asked.

She ran her free hand through her hair, breathing out through her mouth in an attempt to calm her nerves. “He taught me how to be true to myself, and that sometimes trusting people isn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”

Ronin moved her hand and went in the back, shutting the door to one of the rooms and leaving him in the dashboard lights in the middle of hyperspace, the silence of space greeting him as the former Jedi put up mental barriers so strong he couldn’t even sense her anymore. She had changed, Anakin realized. Revis had taken away his Ronin and made her whoever she was with him, whatever he wanted her to be. The strong, loud Ronin was now silent, and seemingly fragile. He knew better than to count her out, but this was not a good sign for his team.

 _Who are you?_ He finally asked himself, though the question was not about him. So this was what it was like to think you know and trust someone, only to have it destroyed, Anakin mused. How ironic. _How painfully beautiful,_ he told himself.

 _An angry beeping woke Ahsoka up, the Jedi Knight looking out the window down at Mustafar._ The planet, she thought, was fitting for the Sith. It _glowed_ with malice, promising threats to any unwelcome visitors that came. Ronin called for the two of them to buckle up as she entered the atmosphere, easing them down onto a platform.

Anakin could tell she was planning something, he really could. Two figures came out of the hangar bay to investigate, one of which Anakin recognized as _Ventress_ , the Sith Assassin that he’d encountered many times in his missions.

“You do have a plan, right?” Anakin asked warily.

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it,” Ronin muttered, and then stood. “Grab your things, let’s go. Whatever I say, play along with it.”

Ronin latched onto Anakin’s collar, her fist tight and tugging on his hair – though not unpleasantly -- and he suddenly felt the Force surging around her; he did his best not to panic as she lowered the loading deck, taking a deep breath. Sometimes, he wondered how she functioned, what with all the stress and anxiety she put herself under. “Showtime,” she muttered, and then walked down the platform.

“Darth Revis and Asajj Ventress,” Ronin called, power emanating from her. “I bring you a peace offering.”

The two figures came into focus, the heat almost suffocating the two Jedi; Ronin seemed not to be bothered by it, though. The redhead Revis and the familiar gray face of Asajj Ventress came into sight, Revis cloaked in black and Ventress in her purple robes. It was hard to keep herself from running to Revis, to hug him, or to kill him—whichever she felt like, but she kept her grip on Anakin firm, minding her emotions in an almost Jedi-like, controlled manner. _Just business, Ronin, just business. Nothing you haven’t done before._  

“And what would that be, _traitor?”_ Ventress snarled, her voice carrying over the walking platform with red sabers engaged. Revis followed her example, settling into the first stance of Shii-Cho. Ronin had to get Ahsoka not to respond in the same manner, saying, _Follow my example, Ahsoka, or you’ll die,_ she snapped, and the Togruta girl grit her teeth and watched as the scene played out.

 _I’m sorry, Anakin,_ Ronin muttered, then pushed Anakin forward, the Jedi stumbling and falling to his knees in front of Kenobi and Ventress, electric blue eyes wide and panicking. “I bring you Anakin Skywalker.”


	3. { t h r e e }

_“Ronin, I swear to the Force, you explain yourself right this instant,” Ahsoka snarled at Ronin._ The black-haired girl only shrugged, adjusting the collar of her black top. Scars dotted her midsection, silvery lines and jagged cuts of memories past telling her life story more than Ronin would ever dare.

“Trust me, my young apprentice. Everything will pan out accordingly,” Ronin finally replied, following Revis and Ventress as they carried a stunned Anakin into the compound.

“So you managed to talk Skywalker’s young Padawan out of the Jedi, eh?” Revis joked, slipping his arm around Ronin’s waist.

The girl cringed and moved him away using the Force, the sudden reshift of the Sith Lord causing Ahsoka to giggle. “Don’t touch me, Revis. You lost that privilege when you chose Maul over me,” Ronin snarled, causing Revis to pause in his tracks.

Ahsoka attempted to slip past him, but he caught her arm, a small squeak emanating from her. She narrowed her eyes up at the Sith, though he was only an inch or so taller than her, and hissed, “Let go of me.”

“Tano, I mean you no harm…. For now. How long have you known Ma—Ronin?”

Ahsoka bristled up to her full height, the Jedi glaring with such hate and malice at the Sith that he almost forgot that she was a Jedi. “Ronin is my _friend,_ more than a teacher. I would watch where you step around her; often, she’s unstable, and I’m sure you know what she’s capable of.”

“The question is, _girl,_ ” Revis smirked, his face inches from hers, his voice a deep, lilting accent, “do _you_ know what she’s capable of?” A smug air hung around him, swirling in his Force signature like it was his lifeblood.

Ahsoka was about to reply, fury buried deep in her, but Ronin’s call broke her concentration. “Ahsoka!” Ronin called from the door. “Move it!”

“Coming!” Ahsoka called, and yanked her arm from Revis’s grasp, the Sith Lord watching the girl run towards her master, entering the compound together.

_What are you planning?_ Revis finally asked himself, golden eyes narrowed as he walked down the catwalk, entering the _much_ cooler environment inside. Ronin was… Stiff. Oddly so. Her mind was a careful blank, just a sea of emptiness and void of color. He often wondered if she was this skilled at avoiding people, or the people she was closest to.

“—Ventress, I will not have you chaining him up and electrocuting him!.... No! I don’t care what he’s done, he is a _guest_ in the House of Sith, not a _captive!_ ” Ronin’s angry voice carried down the durasteel halls, and Revis sensed Ventress’s frustration. When he entered the room, he saw Ventress and Ronin at each other’s necks, Anakin sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, and Ahsoka in the corner, banging her head against the wall. Revis made a mental note that she had far more self-control than he originally thought; he would have annihilated the two of them, at her age—even as a Jedi.

“Ventress, dear, now is not the time for a fight,” Revis warned, gently pushing the two girls apart. Ronin angrily swatted his hand away and went to lunge at Ventress. With a roar, Ventress responded in like, but he snarled as his eyes flashed dangerously and they were both suspended in the air, via the Force. Ronin’s face was twisted in rage and infuriation, but Ventress’s was only shock and irritation—at Kenobi. He smirked, but this didn’t subdue his irritation. “Personally, I rather like both of you, and do not wish to see either of you die. It would be…. Anticlimactic.” He closed his eyes, taking a centering breath and releasing the two. They didn’t bother lunging at each other, but the anger did not subside. “Now, what’s the problem?”

“I brought Anakin here to be trained,” Ronin snarled, glaring at Ventress. “I did not bring him as a prisoner of war.”

“I wish you had,” Anakin groaned, his face in his hands and the man in a curled up, blushing mess. Apparently, Revis mused, the boy couldn’t handle two girls fighting over him. How cute.

Ronin scoffed seemingly offended. “Oh, Anakin, stop being dramatic. You’re going to be fine.”

The two threatened bickering, and Revis took that as a distraction to pull the situation under control. “Ventress, dear,” Revis hummed gently, smiling. “I’ll handle this. Go get some rest.”

“Very well,” she finally said, eyes narrowed at Ronin. “Don’t play with your food, dear.”

When Ventress had finally gone, Ronin whistled lowly. “Whoa, what have I missed? You and _Ventress?_ I can’t believe she hasn’t cut your dick off yet.” Ahsoka howled with laughter from the corner, and Anakin groaned, muttering to himself in Huttese. “Anakin, you _really_ need to watch your language,” Ronin laughed. “But no, Kenobi, really? _Ventress?_ ”

“No,” Kenobi said tightly, golden eyes averted. “After…. After what happened, I—”

“Can I be electrocuted now?” Anakin finally asked, cutting Revis off. “I see three Sith Lords, playing with their food; I see my friend, who’s _apparently_ a Sith, playing nice with the guy who blinded her, and I see the guy who blinded my friend acting like a decent human being,” he grunted. “None of this makes sense and I’d much rather die.”

“Anakin, dear,” Revis smiled, sitting down in front of the semi-traumatized Jedi, “we are going to do nothing of the sort.” For the first time, Revis got to study Anakin outside the premise of combat. A sharp jawline, electric blue eyes so similar to the ones he used to have, sandy hair that curled about his face in the perfect frame—yes, this one will do. A sly smile cut across his face, and he stood back up, Anakin looking rather confused. “I’m impressed, Mariana. You always did have such an interesting taste in people,” Revis finally said. “Your room has been undisturbed since you left. You may place him in either your room or an adjoining room, but do not, at any cost, let him leave your side. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Ronin begrudgingly said, and then hauled Anakin up off the floor by his hair. The look on the Jedi's face was a mixture of pain and pleasure, and Revis had to suppress a chuckle. “Ahsoka, let’s go.”

Ronin led them through the halls of the compound, finally coming to a door. Anakin stood beside her as she stood in front of it, the durasteel painted bright purple, green, and blue, and said, “What’s wrong?”

“I left many Sith artifacts behind when I left,” Ronin murmured. “When I open this door, all the charms I placed on them will break, and you two may be at harm. Guard yourselves wisely, lest you fall prey to a trap I set myself.”

“Is that it?” Ahsoka asked gently.

“The metaphorical aspects we can touch on later, Ahsoka,” Ronin sighed, rolling her eyes. Her hand reached for the handle and she pushed it open, stepping inside.

The two Jedi flinched the second she did, the ominous feeling that came with the whispers of forbidden knowledge, of _dark_ knowledge, the secrets of death and murder and destruction and manipulation, but also the secrets of love, of faith, of charity and kindness—Jedi words, Sith world. It was intoxicating, dangerous, _forbidden--_ everything Anakin had originally loved about Ronin wrapped into a room.

“You can come in,” Ronin finally said. “It’s not going to hurt you anymore.”

They did come in, and the space itself was warm, inviting, artistic, and kind; it was large, too, with a large bed shoved in the corner and parts scattered about, along with art supplies. The room smelled of leather and dust, the gray specks floating through the air and the beams of light that leaked through from the bathroom. Anakin, for a moment, forgot that she was a Sith when she did all of this work.

“You were an artist?” Anakin breathed, running his fingers over canvases bigger than he could _ever_ expect to see in a Coruscanti art gallery. Images of Revis, of Padme and Palpatine and other pivotal figures, of cities and planets and systems, all bundled into hundreds of canvases scattered across the massive room, backed by a large bookshelf with books and journals and papers, all likely full of knowledge she’d amassed. All of it, he was shocked to realize, were actual books, made of flimsiplast and bound in leather.

“ _Are,_ Anakin, _are._ I still work for a gallery,” she teased, and then said, “I’d say excuse the mess, but I doubt Anakin’s room looks any better.”

“It really doesn’t,” Ahsoka grunted, eying the masses of items scattered about.

“So what’s your plan? Fake a Sith, Ahsoka’s your apprentice, I’m a pawn?” Anakin asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Um, Anakin, if what Revis said is true, the last deed done in that bed you don’t _want_ to know,” Ronin winced, and the Jedi leapt up, doing his best to not look disgusted. “But yes,” she said, returning with a red and gold triangular prism, gingerly holding it in her palms, “that’s basically the plan.”

“Basically?” Ahsoka asked, leaning against the wall.

“I don’t have to _pretend_ to be a user of the Dark, or, as you call them, Sith. Ahsoka doesn’t have to _pretend_ to be my apprentice, because she already is, though I am trying to steer her away from the dark specifically.”

Anakin sat in stunned silence as Ronin sat on the floor, holding the prism in her hands. She waited patiently for the Jedi’s minds to stop running, but she knew better than that.

“So you’re saying,” Anakin began, “that Ahsoka is your apprentice, you’re a Sith, and I’m about to be fucked over?”

“That third part will not happen if you listen to me, Anakin. I left the Sith order, therefore I am not a _Sith._ If anything I’m a Dark Jedi, so sit your pretty ass down and focus.” The sharp tone was enough to get his attention, and Anakin did, sitting across from her. Her black clothes made her pale skin seem even paler, as if she were a ghost. Her face was gaunt, her eyes tired-- when had she become this exhausted?

“Ahsoka, are you aware of this?” he asked his former Padawan, and the girl shrugged.

“I… I wasn’t, not consciously. But it makes sense…. I fought with _her_ blade, I _healed_ her when Revis came – thus merging and detangling my Force signature from hers – and, to make things even more ironic, I took her advice and I learned to see through the Force, like she does. So, I’m not really surprised, no, and I’m not going to fight it,” Ahsoka finally said, and Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What about your knighthood?” Anakin forced out through grit teeth. This was _so_ not how he thought this day was going to go.

“The rest of the Council obviously suspects something, and figured it had to be _you_ that were teaching me these things. You’re on Council, therefore they’ve always got an eye watching you, and now I’m under their thumb even more, taking my orders directly from them.” Ahsoka shrugged, her eyes not leaving a fixed spot on the floor. “It’s not surprising.”

It wasn’t, Anakin realized; the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, as if the map suddenly became clearer. He shook his head, grabbing and pulling on his hair in his frustration. “This is a nightmare,” he groaned, and Ronin rolled her eyes. Sometimes he forgot she was even in the room; her presence was so calm that usually she just blended right in to any situation.

“Well, if you’re done being dramatic, I need both of your help,” Ronin sighed, rolling her eyes.

“What are you going to do?” Ahsoka asked, sitting next to Anakin.

“This,” she said, holding up the red prism in her hand, “is a Dark Jedi holocron. It’s hard to pull myself out of the haze that comes when I open it, so I need you two to pull me out of it if I go too deep.”

“How will we know?” Ahsoka asked, and Anakin _really, really_ wished he wasn’t being asked to do this. He wished, honestly, that all of this would go away and he would wake up, a youngling, still with Qui-Gon and none of this to happen again. Unfortunately, though, the world didn’t work like that. It was time to be an adult.

“You just will,” she murmured.

When Ronin had gathered her affirmatives from both of them, she closed her eyes, in a sort of meditative state. The holocron lifted out of her hands, shifting and opening in an almost puzzle-like manner. Ronin dove deeper, searching, looking, digging—

Anakin was pulled with her, his eyes vacant and serene, for what felt like the first time in his life. He felt nothing, but he saw himself as if he was stepping out of his body, saw _everyone_ as if from a second perspective.

He then realized that he was sitting where Ronin was sitting.

How in all the Corellian hells—

_Inhale._

Anakin froze, Ronin’s voice coming from seemingly everywhere. But he inhaled, and exhaled, until he was centered, until his mind was as thoughtless as his body was, until he felt like a true Jedi, at peace with the world and what he was. He opened his eyes, seeing through Ronin’s eyes. Or rather, he didn’t, but he experienced everything she did. Surges of power, flashes of information, bits of planets, documents, of _lives_ …. What had it taken to make one of these?

_Now tell me, Jedi…. What do you see?_

_I see…._ Anakin looked harder, tearing through the information, looking for that _one bit_ that left him with something more than confusion. _I see…._ He dug deeper, and when he found it, he caressed it in his palms, the little bit of information in his grasp, as if nothing else mattered. _I see twin suns, and twin children,_ he finally said, and something told him he knew those two children. One was blonde, with eyes like his, blue and fiery, a son, and the other, the girl, with eyes like chocolate but stiff and unreadable, so much like Padme.

_Exhale._

He was thrust back into his body, the holocron dropping to the floor with a dull _thud._ Ronin exhaled, opening her eyes as she recentered, recalibrated. She looked tired, more than usual—he wondered what pulling him in like that had done to her.

Ahsoka looked at them, confused. “I’ve seen weird things happen, but that is by far the weirdest I’ve ever happened upon,” she deadpanned, standing up. “I want to go explore.”

“Go ahead. No one will harm you here,” Ronin said tightly, her voice caught with emotion, and Ahsoka nodded, leaving the room.

When she had gone, Anakin relaxed, taking a deep breath. “I forgive you, you know.”

“For what?” Ronin asked, confused.

“For not saving my Master, for being a Sith, and for being an ass occasionally,” Anakin hummed, reaching across to grab her rough hand with his. Her hand was clammy, her grip nonexistent, and her entire body trembled like a leaf in winter, hardly functioning enough to be anything worthwhile.   

She only nodded, curling up into a ball at the foot of her bed. “I should have told you years ago, but you would have abandoned me,” she whispered, and Anakin sighed, but he didn’t reply. She was right, after all; and in all honesty, he wasn’t handling this very well.

_What do you see?_ The voice echoed back to him, and he looked down at the shaking Ronin, pulling her into his arms as she buried her face in his chest. He froze a little, not entirely sure what to do, and then pulled her completely into his lap, allowing her to cry into his shoulder and hold her, which she didn’t do, but didn’t fight him on the rest of it.

He ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm her down, until he felt she had fallen asleep, her weight heavy in his arms as he laid her on the bed, covering her with his cloak and staring down at her.

_I see my friend,_ he finally replied to the voice, and it replied in dulled satisfaction, allowing him to leave the room.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

~*~*~

_“So what do you think they want, Kenobi?”_

The Sith shrugged, flopping on the couch beside Ventress. She stretched out her legs over his, the sweatpants bunching up around her calves as she reclined back against the arm, her crop top riding up to right under her bust. Kenobi only patted her knee, smiling at her.

“Kenobi, you’re not answering my question,” she murmured, eyebrows furrowed as the holofilm started.

He sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I don’t know. I have no clue what they want. I can’t get a read on Mariana.”

Ventress shrugged. “I can torture her.”

“She’s stronger than you, you know that, dearest.” He stroked his beard, sighing. This was a _mess,_ that’s what this was.

Ventress snorted. “I don’t care. You live in the past, Kenobi. It haunts you, it elevates her to a godly status because you still _idolize_ her. It’ll always cloud your judgment of her, because you can’t let go.”

“I can let go,” he snarled at her.

Ventress raised an eyebrow. “You were fucking Mariana for three years before you even _accepted_ that Satine was dead. You searched for her, _endlessly,_ obsessively. Mariana was believed dead and yet, you refused to let her go. It’s haunted you, Kenobi. It’s _changed_ you. Let. Her. Go.”

Her words pained him like a knife, but only because of the truth that lay behind them. He went stiff, his hand knotted in his own hair and yanking on it, trying to get his mind to focus on _anything_ but what she’d just said. _Let her go._ He couldn’t do that, now could he? Not when he just got her back. But he had to, he realized. It was clear that she had moved on, made a new life. It was time for him to, as well.

A new set of footsteps entered the area, and Kenobi opened one eye lazily to see Ahsoka standing there, face paling and shock in her eyes. “I’ll, uh, go somewhere else,” she murmured, but Kenobi grinned.

“No, no, no, don’t worry,” Kenobi smiled. Ventress regarded her with disdain, and Revis glanced over at his friend’s obvious annoyance. “Ventress, darling,” he hummed, and she rolled her eyes, allowing him to get up and wander over to the girl. “Ahsoka, come with me.”

His voice was gentle, kind, almost fatherly as he took her wrist, gently leading her into the kitchen. She glared at his hand, but spotted the red bruises and dried blood that covered his knuckles and the scars from the cuffs the Jedi put on him. More scars were sliced across his forearms, some paper thin, and others large enough to be from a saber or blaster.

She yanked her hand free once they came to a halt in the kitchen, the cooking droid whirred in excitement at the prospect of potentially making more food. Revis spoke gently to it in a language that she didn’t understand; it chirped out a code in binary and gathered ingredients, starting to make something. Revis leaned against the counter, out of the way, and said, “Ahsoka Tano. I’ve read your files.” He crossed his ankles, smiling at her. “The Jedi didn’t care much for your…. Ah, _aggressive_ streak, did they?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, briefly wondering where he’d gotten access to her files but waved the thought off. “Those petty fights are behind me. I’m different now.”

Revis smiled, as if that was what he was expecting to hear. It was weird to Ahsoka, watching this _Sith_ interact with her on such a gentle and kind level, considering he _tried to kill her,_ and for bringing up her record, he _didn't_ mention the fact she'd been framed for blowing up the Jedi Temple (briefly, she considered the option that it was _him_ who had done it, but dismissed the thought for further evaluation) _._ She didn’t really know how to take this.

“Listen, dear. I know Mariana isn’t training you to be a Sith. She _hated_ being one, with a passion. Ironic, in my opinion, considering passion is a founding aspect of us. She’s trying to drive you away from something _she_ hated, and apparently, she knows you well enough to understand you don’t want to be that either.”

“What are you saying? That I should ignore her?” Ahsoka bristled, narrowing her eyes.

The cooking droid set a plate of food down in front of Ahsoka, fruits and breads she had never seen since she left her home world. With a look of shock up at Revis, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be away from home and be homesick,” Revis said softly. “I might be Coruscanti, but my life was _controlled_ by the Jedi Order. Corruption filled their ranks, and therefore I was corrupted as well…. My master, and Skywalker’s master, Qui-Gon, was the exception to that rule. And no, don’t ignore her. I trust her judgment, even if she tried to kill me.” He paused, seemingly counting on his fingers. “Six times, in fact.”

Ahsoka chewed on the food, listening intently. “She must have really disliked you.”

“She hated me for what I did to her. Making her a Sith, blinding her on orders of my former master, the works. I was lucky, I suppose; most of the time, we were able to direct the anger into much more.... _Benign_ means of arguing. She came to me for knowledge and I was young, too young perhaps, to be taking on an apprentice. I did anyway, out of sheer spite for Count Dooku who specifically warned me not to take her on, and I used her to further my goal. I got too attached, and it backfired.” He shrugged. “I was foolish. I am still foolish, but I learned from it.”

Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure what to do with all this information, and the picture of this Sith and her friend together in a darkened room wasn’t really the image she was going for.  “So…. What are you trying to say? Ronin’s more fit to teach me than Anakin? Than you?”

“I’m saying not to feel pressured by Ronin to learn things. She isn’t the best with saber combat anymore—a lot of her skill was lost when she lost her sight, but she’s working on it. You fight like she used to—Form Five, Djem-So. Your Ataru is rusty, though I get the feeling you don’t enjoy Ataru anyways.”

“Anakin said you commented on his Shii-Cho the first time you met,” Ahsoka muttered unwittingly, almost as an afterthought.

Revis smiled; his comment must have infuriated the Jedi enough to bring it up. “Indeed, I did. His forms in general need work, honestly. He’s sloppy, slow, and reckless in his bladework.”

“Ahuh,” Ahsoka grunted, and then finished off the plate of food. She hadn’t even realized she was hungry. She stared at it, full and sated but conflicted. “Why are you doing this?”

He grabbed her hand, calloused fingers gently pushing into the flesh of her palm. “I need your help getting Ronin back.”

Ahsoka took her hand back and snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, there’s no hope for that. Sorry, but she is one-hundred-percent dedicated to making sure you die one of these days. Why we’re here, I’m not sure. Take it up with her.” She yanked her hand away, disappearing down the hallway and leaving him an angry mess.

Revis watched her leave the room, the cooking droid chirping a question at him before the ginger left the room, fuming and trying to rein in his emotions. _I am in control. I am in control. I am in control._ His nails dug into his palms, Ventress’s words echoing like daggers in his mind. _Let. Her. Go._ He went to a common room he’d set up for practicing, expecting to be alone, but found Anakin Skywalker sitting there, meditating.

“I specifically told Mariana not to let you leave her side,” Revis snarled at him.

“Don’t electrocute me,” Anakin muttered without turning around. “Or fight me. I’m not really interested in whatever you have to say.”

Revis fumed, glaring at him. “Should I chain the two of you together in a cell? It would be _much_ easier on me!”

Anakin didn’t reply right away, and then he stood, hair brushing the back of his bare neck, and turned to face the Sith. His eyes were cold, flinty orbs of blue, daring him to raise a hand to him. “No. That won't be necessary.”

He pushed past the Sith, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he walked down the hallways towards Ronin’s sleeping form, passed out on her bed. Kenobi briefly wondered how he was still so in-tune with Ronin that he was still able to tell if she was sleeping or not, even as her closest friend walked past him towards her bedroom, but brushed it off and assumed nothing of it. Deciphering why Ronin was still on his radar like she had been, so, so long ago was something to deal with another day. He assumed the position that Anakin was in on the center of the floor, training equipment scattered across the walls and floor, taking a deep breath and focusing his energies.

When he felt sufficiently focused, he rose, pressing his hand in a particular divot in the wall, slipping into the small pathway hidden behind the structures. It was warmer in between the walls, the heat from the lava outside radiating through the several feet of durasteel and insulation to keep as much of it out as possible. He came to a small room, perfectly circular, with vaulted ceilings. In the center of the room, there was a circle painted on the floor in red and black, ancient Sith sigils painted in five corners of the central circle. The room was cold, laden with whispers of darkened knowledge tainted by blood and desire, of lust and bloodlust, of the shadows of the Dark side and of the tortured ghosts of the Light. 

_Home,_ he murmured to himself, dropping his belt to the durasteel floor, his saber clanking against it. His tunic followed, scars and tattoos dotting his exposed skin. The air chilled his skin, raising goosebumps; he ignored his discomfort, slipping his boots off and pressing his feet against the icy floor.

He took one last centering breath, and stepped into the circle.

At his presence, the room seemed to glow with red light, emanating from the circle under him. It lit his face and body from underneath, the Sith’s feet tucked neatly under him and his hands resting on his knees. Candles were lit, and his focus was unbreakable.

When he spoke, it was in the Old Sith tongue, so obsolete even his master didn’t understand it. But he reached into the Force, his words projecting his intentions and the fragments of spirits, ghosts of dark deeds and hanus people, came to his beck and call.

_So, Darth Revis,_ a feminine voice whispered into his ear. _You seek answers._

_Yes,_ he replied. _What is your name?_

A laugh, then she sat across from him, her pitch black eyes and white hair wispy clumps of smoke. _You know me as Kreia._

If the Sith was shocked, he buried it deep inside and kept his mind exceptionally unchanged. _I have heard many things about you, indeed,_ he replied. _Some say you tried to destroy the Force entirely._

The woman threw her head back, laughing. _Try, I did, and failed._

Kenobi studied her as she rolled her shoulders, the elderly woman relaxing and grinning at him. _You are not the first to contact me, not at this place. There was a girl. She called herself…. Hmm. What was it? Darth Navini?_ Kreia’s eyes narrowed, the black orbs ominous in the darkness of the room. _Yes, that was it. She was your student, I recall._

Kenobi paused, and the old Sith woman laughed. _She was more than that, your hesitation would seem. Whispers of your deeds together echo in the Force. You may forget, but the Force, it never does._

_Why did she contact you?_ Kenobi’s question was harsh, straightforward. He was on edge. Kreia knew that; she had pushed him to it, intentionally, to see what he was made of. Old Sith spirits did it often, he’d learned. Kreia rose, her ghastly fingers trailing across his bare skin. She was cold, like Hoth, like the room he was in. _Please. I need to know._

_Your problems seem to revolve around this girl, Revis. Perhaps you should just kill her._

_I can’t,_ he murmured. _She’s greater than me, her plan in the Force is greater than a death at my hand._

_So much faith, so little understanding. Very well._ Kreia smirked at him, her eyes narrowed and head tilted. _I spent many, many years as a Jedi. I trained Revan. I worked in the Jedi Archives, but I was too dangerous, considered a failed Jedi. I know a Jedi when I see one, Revis, and your Sith affiliation does not hide you from your past. Nor does it Navini’s…. She came to me, asking for advice. This is the information you want, yes?_ When he nodded, she continued. _All advice comes with payment, Revis._

_You will receive your payment when you tell me the information I seek,_ he shot back, eyes boring holes into the unblinking gaze of the old Sith Trivumate leader.

She grinned, her hands readjusting themselves on her knees. _You were taught well, young Sith. Very well. What I told her, was this…. ‘_ _Know that there was once a Darth Traya. And that she cast aside that role, was exiled, and found a new purpose. But there must always be a Darth Traya, one that holds the knowledge of betrayal. Who has been betrayed in their heart, and will betray in turn.’_

_Is that it?_ He asked her, and she cackled at him.

_You are no fool, Revis, but yet you are blinded by your love. It is quite the pity, really. It is a shame I have to tell you the most obvious tirade of your life. Your dear lover, or former lover, or weapon, whatever your affiliation is with that girl, she is the New Sith Order’s Darth Traya. Her name will be spoken with the same hate, same disgust, as mine once was._ Kreia’s hand extended, an obsidian knife in her hand. _Now, my payment._

He sighed, taking the knife from her hand and cut the palm of his hand, dribbling blood onto the sigil for knowledge on the circle. She grinned, almost drinking in the blood in pure bliss. _You play with dangerous magics, boy. Blood magic might kill you._

“Good,” he snarled, his eyes tight in focus. “Goodbye, Kreia.”

_Goodbye, Obi-Wan Kenobi,_ she grinned, and vanished from existence.  

He groaned, letting the candles burn down as he gasped for breath. Such a strong spirit, from so long ago, seriously drained him. He was fatigued, tired, dizzy; he wasn’t bleeding much, and it was already easing up, but he was tired. He had forgotten why he swore to never do this again.

Kenobi gathered his items off the floor and tugged them back on, settling into place as he walked in the narrow halls, thinking on what Traya had said. Yes, she was an old spirit that was notoriously manipulative, but that was straightforward, educational. She was always a teacher at heart, he assumed.

The cut on his hand stung, but it was nothing compared to what he’d done a few months before. These old rituals, these old practices, they appeased the Olden Sith like Traya. It kept him on the good side of them, of the heart of the true darkness of the Force—at least he hoped so.

The door hissed shut and Kenobi was left in pure, blissful silence for a few moments, before Ahsoka appeared in the doorway.

 “You’re back,” Kenobi smiled, his hand tucked tightly behind his back to hide his blood from the girl.

“Have you been sitting here all night?” She asked him, her eyebrows furrowed. He only shrugged, but his calm relaxed state was soon followed with confusion.

“Wait, what time is it?” He asked, and she gave him a look.

“Ten in the morning,” she told him. “Do you need to sleep or something? I had a favor to ask, but--”

“Ahsoka, I'm fine.” He turned to her, resting his hands on his hips. “What is it?”

“I need your help,” she began sheepishly, toying with the hem of her tunic. “I… I want to work on my saber skills and Anakin is still sleeping--”

“Of course I’ll work with you!” Kenobi chuckled, and stood up, turning to face her. “Now, or later?”

“Now, if you can,” she murmured, averting her eyes.

_Oh, young one…. How the Jedi have kept you silent,_ he murmured to himself, looking down at her. She refused to meet his gaze, his eyes studying her sadly. “Very well,” Kenobi breathed, extending his hand out for her sabers. “I don’t have any training sabers here, so I can temporarily modify ours to fit the job.”

She nodded, and tossed hers to him, the man tinkering away for a moment before giving them back. “What do you wish to work on?”

“What do you think I should?” Ahsoka warily asked, and the Sith paused, thinking.

“Probably your combat,” he finally said, shaking his head. “If you can barely hold your own against me, how do you hope to take on Grievous, Dooku, or even Sidious?”

Ahsoka paused, and then said, “Who’s Sidious?”

Revis paused in shock, the confused statement from the young Jedi shocking him. “You don’t know about Darth Sidious?” When she shook her head, he paled, gulping loudly.

He rushed out of the room, Ahsoka following, confused, behind him. Without even knocking, he rushed into Ronin’s room, the girl now awake and in the midst of pulling a fresh tunic over her head. “Oh, stars, Revis. What do you want?” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Why haven’t you told them about Sidious?” He hissed immediately, Ahsoka staring confusedly as Anakin walked into the room from the ‘fresher, shirtless and hair still dripping wet, towel in hand and drying it. Ahsoka was glad to see him awake and functioning; when she had come in to check on him, he was passed out drunk on the floor, snoring away.

“What is going on?” Anakin asked, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes were semi-clear, but the grogginess remained.

Ronin calmly pulled on her shirt and made sure it laid right before answering. “I have not told them of Sidious, no.”

Revis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You had _one job,_ Mari, one job,” he snarled at her, and Ahsoka sidled up to Anakin, as if he could protect her from the growing tension.

“Pretty sure that was _never_ part of my job. _You_ were the one who was supposed to get close to Sidious, not me; the monster won’t trust me, not after what he did to me.” Ronin popped her back, then turned towards Revis. “ _Ronin of Mustafar,_ remember?”

“What?” Anakin asked, confused. He looked to Ashoka, who shrugged, evidently hiding her knowledge of the situation—if she had any at all.

Without looking at him, Revis growled, “When Mariana left the Sith Order, Darth Sidious stripped her of her Sith name and her birth name, outlawing the use of either of them. He stripped her of her Mandalorian heritage, of her Force heritage, to make an example out of her to the rest of us. Though, then again, everyone thought she was dead until a few months ago.”

“A ronin is a masterless soldier, Anakin,” Ronin said, her voice carefully guarded. “I took the name and twisted it to hide my identity from Sidious while I was on Coruscant.”

The room went silent and Anakin’s mind went wild, trying to connect the dots. “Ronin,” Anakin breathed, “what was your Sith name?”

It was a tense moment that seemed to last ages, Revis’s gold eyes _daring_ her to say it, to tell the truth, or he would for her; Ahsoka watched attentively, her blue eyes studying the situation and the only sense of fear about her was how she gripped Anakin’s hand behind her thigh, hiding it from the rest of the group as if she were afraid of them knowing she was scared.

Ronin bit her lip, and she hesitated. “Tell him, Mariana,” Revis growled, his voice low and warning her. “Go on. Or I’ll tell him for you.”

“I can’t,” Ronin hissed, and the two leapt into an argument in a harsh language the two Jedi didn’t understand.

Anakin huffed, anger flaring as he howled, “Enough!” The two of them silenced themselves in an instant, the sudden outburst shocking them both. “Ronin, you _are_ going to tell me the truth, or I take Ahsoka and walk right out of here,” he growled, glaring at her.

Her shoulders slouched, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Before I tell you, you have to understand,” she began, “the things that were done under this name… they are not who I am anymore. I’ve changed.” To Anakin, it sounded as if she were pleading with him, begging him to understand where she was coming from. He nodded his assent, and she said, “Once upon a time, when I was a Sith, I was Darth Navini.”

“You mean the Sith that slaughtered _hundreds_ of Force-sensitive children so the Jedi wouldn’t find them, the Sith that _killed_ Padme Amidala, the Sith that fucking _died_ ten years ago?” Ahsoka snarled, and Ronin rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please; I don’t, never have, and never _will_ kill children. The Jedi fucked up and pinned it on me. I didn’t _kill_ Padme, I was trying to _save_ her. There is a Sith Lord none of the Sith like that is buried deep in the Senate and Padme was my _only chance_ at stopping him. Now, he’s untouchable.” Ronin shoved past Revis, growling, “Are you happy now?”

He called after her in that language that only they seemed to understand, harsh syllables falling off his tongue like a dagger to her throat. There was a sarcastic response echoed down the hallway, but Revis did not go after her.

“This is bad, very very bad,” Revis muttered to himself.

“Hey, Kenobi,” Ahsoka called to him as he was about to leave the room. “What’s so bad about Sidious?”

He smiled at her, but it was more of a pained grimace. “If Sidious is in power, he’ll destroy the democracy that so many fight to keep. I may be a Sith, young one, but I understand the value of the freedom of those under the Republic. Ventress may report officially to Dooku, and I may as well, but that does _not_ mean I enjoy the things I’m ordered to do.” He left the room, leaving Anakin and Ahsoka to themselves.

“What do we do?” Ahsoka asked him.

The Jedi Knight sat on the edge of the bed, face in his hands. “I don’t know, Snips. I don’t know.”

She sighed and sat next to him, pulling the Jedi into a supportive hug. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “We always do.”

*~*~*

Kenobi stormed down the hall, fury on his gaze. Fury that somehow, some way, had always crept to the surface whenever _she_ was around. He went to his room, nearly slamming the door shut, things immediately being thrown against the walls. Thank the Force he wasn’t stupid enough to own anything expensive—that was breakable, at least.

Glass shattered across the wooden floors, followed by ceramic, then books, anything that would be potentially damaged. When he was out of things to throw, he sat on his bed, sobs racking his chest and his frustration turning to sadness. She would always hold some footing in his soul, he decided. Satine did. He looked on memories of her fondly, with a tinge of sadness, but did not lose track of the present with them.

He had let go when he finally visited her grave. The elegant tombstone of marble, cut into an obelisk of peace and equality in a world of warring peoples, had finally let his soul rest.

He knew what he had to do.

 

Sometime later, when Ronin was alone, she returned to her room. Anakin was gone, as was Ahsoka; they were halfway across the complex, practicing combat with a grin on their faces. Pale fingers trailed across spines she knew so well, the leather welcoming back the touch of a familiar hand. These books had saved her life, multiple times.

_Dear friends, if only I could read you once more._ She bit her lip, her fingers settling on the worn spine of one she knew so very well. _But the Force itself whispers in my ear now. I am nothing more than a tool._

She cleared off a section of her desk and started writing. Words flowed from the pen like they always did, but now she worried if they had blurred lines together, overlapping stories of one who could not read them anymore. Ahsoka and Anakin would forgive her, she determined. It was that, or she would be killed in an instant. The information in these had to be passed on. They _had_ to be.

She felt Kenobi’s presence before she heard him, the Sith awkwardly standing in the doorway. “Mariana--”

“Don't,” she murmured, closing the book. “Just don't.” Ronin stood, going to the shelf to put the book back. Her fingertips lingered on the spine a moment longer than they should have, and then he was upon her.

His hand was firm on her shoulder, his words honeyed. “I can read it to you, if you'd like.”

“I spent many a year crafting that one, Kenobi. It doesn't need to be read by the eyes of a man who would see its destruction,” she murmured back, but his breath was hot on her neck, his hand firm on her hip.

“What about the others?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the column of her neck. She sighed through her nose, leaning back on him on instinct.

“I hate you,” she murmured, and then heard the door close and lock. She didn't need to see to know Kenobi had done it. She fought to keep her control, her fragile ego already so close to shattering. If she gave into him now, after all that had happened, the rift that now seemed the size of a galaxy between them…. She would never be the same.

“But your body still trusts me,” he murmured. “Why don't you?”

He showered her collarbone and neck with kisses, and Ronin struggled to get a cohesive argument figured out in her mind, let alone enough to say it like the stuttering fool she was. “You chose the _Sith_ over _this_ ,” she finally hissed out, trying to fight her body’s will.

“I chose your life over its destruction. He would have killed you, Mari, you know that.” His words were layered with honey, with the Force, and he was laying it on thick with his kisses and low voice and accent, not to mention his fingers brushing all the right spots on her exposed midsection. It was _infuriating._ She knew he was telling the truth, even with his attempted manipulation. He was the Negotiator, the Sith mastermind that crafted the Clone Wars with a careful hand and an iron will, the face of the behind-the-scenes negotiations, the very will of everything that had occurred over the last fifteen years. He was a murderer, she reminded herself, but she had been his favorite weapon.

She turned in his arms to face him, her fingers trailing up his shirt to his lips, then across his face as she pulled him flush against her, a smirk on her face. “You could never really manipulate me like you could everyone else, Master,” she hummed out, and the low growl that left his throat was the only warning she had to being pinned against the bookshelves, her thighs wrapped around his waist as tightly as she could as his hands worked their way into her hair and under her top.

“You are _mine_ ,” he growled out, but she didn't reply. She just gave in to his touches and returned them, allowing herself a little freedom. Did she still love Obi-Wan Kenobi? She wasn't sure. She knew she loved the way he made her feel, the way he made her scream like no one else did-- but _him?_

She didn't know.

_*~*~*_

_Ahsoka was tired of getting her ass beaten in._ No matter what she did, no matter what defense she put up against Anakin, he knew her too well. Somehow he found a way into her attacks, into her guard, and destroyed it. She hauled herself off the cool marble floors, dripping with sweat, for what seemed the millionth time. Ventress stood in a corner, staring smugly at them. “No wonder you always lose, Tano.”

“Shut it, Ventress,” she snarled back, her blue eyes locked in a furious gaze on Anakin’s smirking glance.  She charged again, only to find herself skitching along the marble once again.

“You fight too much like a Jedi,” Ventress hummed. “When you get frustrated, you throw yourself into your attacks recklessly. You lack the patience to execute them properly.” Ahsoka growled an understood at her, and then readied herself again. This time she waited it out, daring Anakin to take a shot, and he did-- when she had crossed her feet.

With a roar, she threw her sabers across the room and clenched her fists, breathing heavily. “Take ten, Snips,” Anakin murmured, and the Togruta growled out a response that sent the Jedi stalking away.

Ventress sat across from her, violet eyes studying the Jedi. White hair was beginning to grow on her head, Ahsoka noticed. It was oddly fitting.

“You need to learn Soresu,” Ventress announced, sipping her tea.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Why would I take advice from you?”

“Because I just spent the last three hours watching you and Skywalker attempt to spar, noting the way the both of you fight. You need to work on Soresu and he needs to work on Vaapad. Done and done,” she snarled out. “Kenobi can help you. I don't know about Skywalker; Mariana used to use Vaapad all the time when I first met her.” She shrugged. “I won't ask her.”

Ahsoka was still fuming, and Ventress knew that. But that small admission gave the young Jedi an idea. “When did you first meet Ronin?”

She looked away. “It was.... A few weeks before the ceremonial and infamous blinding of Mari. I was young, reckless, and scared. Freshly given to Dooku, as well, fresh out of the Jedi Order. Now, there is little difference between Mari and me in theory.” Ventress’ eyes narrowed, and Ahsoka knew her moment had passed. “The rest you don't deserve to know,” she snarled back, and the Nightsister left the room, leaving Ahsoka alone in the large, otherwise empty hall.

Sweat still slicked her skin, but fatigue had set in, and her eyelids hung heavily on her eyes. _Skyguy, I'm going to go my room. I'm too exhausted to continue._

_That's fine, Snips,_ came the weary reply. _I'll bring food to you in a couple hours. Okay?_

_Okay,_ she replied, and stood, wandering the halls until she found the door to her room and slid in, the cozy living space looking out over Mustafar.

“This was my room, at one point,” came a voice from the still-open doorway. She turned to see Kenobi, shirtless and his trousers low on his hips. He seemed to glow with a contentedness, as if an animal inside of him had been tamed. But with the marks that dotted his torso and his back, she didn't need to ask what had happened.

“Yours and Ronin’s?” Ahsoka asked, turning her attention back out the window at the bubbling lava beyond.

“Stars, no. She wasn't.... She wasn't in the picture at the time,” Kenobi sighed, and leaned up against the window across from Ahsoka. “It was shortly after I fell from the Order. I moved rooms after a few months; I wanted to be closer to my Master and the training facility over my seclusion.” He turned a golden gaze to her, studying her. “You are not afraid of me, not like Anakin is.”

“If there is one thing I have learned,” she murmured, “it's that fear only hinders progress. Do you want to kill me?”

Kenobi paused, and when his answer didn't come, she looked at him. His face was stunned, a small smile on his lips. “No, no I don't,” he finally replied. “Not you, not Anakin, not Ronin. I'm done killing,” he murmured. “I hated it when I was a Jedi. I didn't suddenly enjoy it as a Sith.” He pushed himself off the window, turning to leave, but he stopped himself before he did so. “But cross me, and I will not hesitate to run you through.”

His threat was enough to get Ahsoka to nod in response, the girl not even surprised. “Understood, Kenobi,” she’d said, but he was already gone, the door sliding closed behind him.

She sighed and pushed herself off the window, finally walking away from the pulsing light of the lava and into the 'fresher, turning on the water.

Dirt and grime turned the water almost black as she rinsed it off her body, the heat of the water more calming than anything else she’d endured that day. Turning the water off, she stepped out, gathering a towel from the rack and rubbing her face into it, a deep sigh leaving her throat.

She grabbed a tunic off the hanger, pulling it over her head and trying to stay out of her head; but when she turned to the mirror, her tired reflection staring back at her, that hope didn't last. Her exhausted blue eyes had deep brown bags under them, a haunted gaze mixed with a quiet resignation. There had once been a fight there, but she had lost it when the Temple was bombed, when Barriss had betrayed her. Her knuckles turned white on the edges of the sink, but she reeled her anger in; it didn't do any good for her to be upset over the past.

_Let it go, Ahsoka,_ she told herself, but she couldn't let go.

She shook herself and left the bathroom, tossing the dirty clothes into a dark corner of the room. When she turned to the bed, she saw Kenobi sitting there again, looking defeated.

“How long have you been sitting there?” she asked quietly.

“Ten minutes. Ronin is.... Not in her right mind currently. She's angry, having an episode. Even Anakin is locked out of her room in hopes she doesn't hurt anyone.” When he was greeted by a suspicious glance, he raised his eyebrow. “Search the Force. You'll find my truth.”

And she did, carefully skirting his mind. She found Ronin, lashing out at some of the fighting dummies in her room, roaring with anger as images of her past flashed before her eyes. “So what do you want to want?”

His silence came first. “I wasn't sure how you would react. I was.... Conflicted, to say the least.” He stood, and pulled two sabers from his belt. “Ronin told me, before we broke up, that if she ever had an apprentice, she wanted them to have these.”

Ahsoka reached out and took them from his hand, igniting the blades. The blue and gold sabers thrummed to life, and she tilted her head. “So she was supposed to be a Guard, huh?”

“Yes,” was his instant reply.

“What about the blue one?”

He sat back on the bed, crossing his legs, and smiled at her kindly. “You’ll know when you're ready to know. Ahsoka, I left a world behind when I left the Order. I remember when Plo Kloon was still going on missions for the Order, when he brought you back. He flaunted you like a prized possession.” A sad smile reached his eyes. “He wanted me to be your Master. You were two when I left the Order, when I faked my death. Ronin was fifteen. She took a liking to you, even in the year she spent as my Padawan.” His eyes flicked to the shocked face of Ahsoka, and his golden eyes widened as he processed her shock. “They never told you?” She shook her head, and he sighed. “They say the Padawan picks the Master, and for a time, you and Mari were.... Inseparable. She snuck down into the nursery to see you whenever she could. It devastated her when she was barred from seeing you.”

Ahsoka sat on her bed, across from Kenobi. “Why?”

“Something about fearing that she'd been corrupted like I had, or something like that.” He shrugged. “I don't know. She never really told me. By the time she found me on Mandalore, she had been out of the order for two years or so. Most of that time was spent with Quinlan Vos.”

Ahsoka cringed. “Explains a lot.”

Kenobi laughed. “Indeed it does. I spent a lot of time with Quinlan, back in the day. He was _terrifyingly_ annoying. By your reaction, it’s reasonable to assume he’s not even close to being better.” Ahsoka grinned, the Jedi’s face lighting up with admiration and happiness.

It was silence for a while, and finally, she whispered, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don't want you to think that Darth Revis is all I am, Ahsoka. I'm more than that. I'm _better_ than that.” He stood at the sound of an angry Ventress coming down the hallway and headed for the door.

“Kenobi.”

“Yes?”

She smirked at him, eyes exhausted. “You keep talking like that and I’ll find it hard to believe that _The Negotiator_ is still a Sith.”

He smiled back, gold eyes flashing blue. “Maybe that's my secret, Ahsoka Tano. If you want tea, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He left the room with a sense of finality, and she nodded, smiling to herself. She set the sabers on the nightstand, settling in the soft bed and pulling the down comforter over her shoulders.

She hated to admit it, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was starting to get on her good side.

_*~*~*_

_Kenobi liked to think that he was more than just the weapon his master made him_ , but he knew deep in his soul that wasn't true.

Well, if he had a soul left to feel.

He’d sold it, long ago, to a man named Palpatine; traded it for knowledge, to _know_ more than the Jedi wanted him to know, to trade their oppressive regime for perceived freedom. He just changed the type of shackle he held himself in. Once chained by control, by _others_ , he was now chained by anger, by hate, by some byproduct of fear by no one other than himself. He could leave his master whenever he pleased. But he was in too deep now. No one was left to get him out, to save him from the monster he’d become.

Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer existed, replaced by Darth Revis and the weapon that he was.

Ventress had been storming around the halls, but no more than she previously had in the past. Pacing kept her mind off destroying things, usually, and Kenobi could appreciate that. He simply walked beside her until she was calm enough to explain, but it was nothing outside of anger directed at her situation, and fear of her own death.

Death, Kenobi mused, would be merciful for him at the moment.

In the silence of walking alongside Ventress, memories of Ronin in his arms came to the surface. The fresh scratches down his back stung and the bites on his chest throbbed with each memory, fading as the next one came. He had learned, in that beautiful snippet of time lost in the throes of lust and love, that she didn't truly love him any longer. He was a monster, forever engraved in her mind. He had betrayed her trust in a devastating way, and she would never forgive him.

He couldn't even forgive himself.

_It was for her own good,_ he reasoned. _Her sight over her life. Blindness can be adapted to. There is nothing for Sith after death._

Ventress had grabbed his arm, the Sith stopping immediately and looking forward. A bar was three inches in front of his face, and without hesitating further, he stepped around it and continued, Ventress letting him go as he walked on without her. Her anger, he noted, had abated to worry over her friend, her brother, the only person she could trust.

He became lost in his head, anger flaring and punching the nearest wall. In his thoughts, he didn't notice the fresh blood dripping down his shaking hands as he ran a hand through his hair, golden eyes locked on an unfocused point. Where had his confidence gone? Where was his foundation? He thought that speaking with some of the old spirits would help him, give him the guidance he needed—yet, a day later, he has made no such progress. His faith was waning.

“Kenobi,” he heard a voice say. When he looked up, he saw Anakin staring at him, eyes tired and confused. “You okay?” Liquor was thick on his breath, and the Jedi seemed a little off otherwise, but Kenobi made no comment.

Kenobi beamed at him, nodding. “Yes. I was just thinking.”

“Pretty deep in thought,” Anakin mused dryly. “You’re bleeding.” He tilted Kenobi’s hand, the Jedi’s gentle on the Sith, and then said, “Well, you were. Best get that washed up before it gets infected.”

“Why would you care?” Kenobi said to his retreating back.

Anakin paused, and then held up his right hand. “Don't want you to lose it like I have.” He threw some food on a plate and then the Jedi strolled away, leaving the Sith in a shocked heap on the floor. If anything, Anakin Skywalker would prove to be a very interesting trainee. He scrubbed his hands of his blood and gingerly dried them, the bruises already forming on the sensitive skin. Sooner or later, he mused, he would lose feeling in his hands.

He poured boiling water over some loose tea leaves and lavender, stirring in some honey with a little lemon, and leaned against the counter, drinking in the soothing mixture.

_Lavender:_ _sleep, and focus._

He went to bed shortly after that, his thoughts becoming more solidified as his body relaxed.

_I will train Anakin Skywalker. My master doesn't need to know._

His eyes closed, and the last thought that passed through his mind before the Sith fell asleep carried the last of the man’s determination.

_Anakin Skywalker will be_ mine _, or so help me, there will be all of hell to pay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a nightmare to edit, mainly because so much information is covered over the course of a few-storyline-days, but 21 pages later, here we are.   
> I had to cut down the chapter length, actually; full length, it was a whopping 30 pages and around 15K, so I chopped off like 9 pages and added them to chapter four, which made more sense anyway, but in the time of doing that, I made chapter four 46 pages...... oops.   
> I hope you enjoyed. Go yell at me on Tumblr if you want! (I'm stxnesandshadxws)


	4. { f o u r }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siths and children and death, oh no!

The next morning, everyone was gathered at the table eating breakfast, everyone but Ronin eating and chatting—even the hungover Anakin, whose drinking pattern seemed more of a habit than a reaction to stress. She just pushed food around on her plate, looking down. Her face was pale and her eyes bloodshot from crying, and she looked miserable.

“Ronin, you okay?” Anakin asked, his hand gentle on her arm.

She set her fork down, the metal tapping the edge of the plate as she did so. Ventress, Kenobi, and everyone else stared worriedly at her until she answered. “A client called me last night,” she murmured. “Alex was killed by pirates. His ship was boarded, he resisted. They killed him.” She didn't meet any of their gazes, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek.

The room was silent for a moment, the two Jedi and two Sith staring at their friend, their coworker, mourning in silence.

“I'll kill them for you,” Anakin chirped, breaking the stunned quiet. A few of them allowed a small laugh, but the table knew he wasn’t joking.

“Not worth your time. They're _pirates_ , Anakin. When Alex took the cargo job he knew it was a risk.” She wiped the tear off, and shrugged. “But he was still my fiance.”

Kenobi coughed at that word, and Ventress turned to glare at him as he recovered gracefully. “I apologize for your loss, Mari. If it would make you feel better, I’m certain Skywalker and I could manage to handle a ship of pirates…. _By ourselves,_ Ventress, darling,” he added in response to a hopeful, bloodlusting gaze that the Nightsister had set on him. She humphed, slouching back in the seat.  

“Shut it, Kenobi.” Ronin stood and walked away from the table, sadness in her bones. “I have to return to Coruscant to oversee his burial. I will be gone for about a standard week; can I trust that nothing will happen to Anakin while I am gone?”

“Yes,” Kenobi said instantly, with a shocked look from Ventress. “Anything you need, Mari. It's yours.”

“Your compassion is under the wrong pretense, Kenobi.” Ronin turned to him, a small smile on her lips. “But I thank you nonetheless.” She left the room with a sense of finality, and Kenobi coughed, drawing the attention of the two Jedi and Ventress.

“I have come to my decision as to what to do with Mariana’s request,” Kenobi announced, and Anakin took a breath. Ahsoka flashed him a worried look, and Kenobi stood, his fingertips pressed against the glossy surface of the table. “I will be training the both of you, in both the Force and combat.” He looked Anakin up and down, judging, watching, but there was something else there. It made the Jedi feel like prey, like he would be the next being devoured under the menacing gaze of the Sith. “Stars know you need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anakin snarled back, and Ahsoka grabbed his arm as he went to rise out of his seat.

“He’s right, Anakin. You could barely hold him off the first time, and I didn’t even come close to winning when I faced him. The timing of the Council saved us that day, not our skill.” She looked to Kenobi, who seemed shocked she even said such a thing, and then murmured, “Plus, it’s what Ronin wants.”

“Snips, you’re seriously trusting this guy? He could _kill us,_ ” Anakin growled at her. Any kindness that Kenobi had seen, it seemed, was only drunken ramblings of an alcoholic Jedi.

“I don’t trust him, not one bit!” Ahsoka heard a muttered _ouch_ from Kenobi and a snort from Ventress, but she ignored them. “I trust Ronin, with my life. She’s saved your life _how many times,_ Anakin? How many?!”

“At least seven,” he grunted.

“Exactly!” Ahsoka shoved him at his shoulders, the Togruta bristling with her frustrations. “Get your head in the game and stop being so hateful. You’re better than that. The Jedi are better than that.” She turned to Kenobi, taking a breath and releasing her anger in a breathing exercise, and then said, “You’ll see me in the training hall in an hour.” She stormed out of the room, followed by Anakin, who looked more panicked than anything else. Shouts of apology could be heard, and the Sith sank back into his seat, sipping his chai tea.

“How bad do you think Tano is about to whip his ass?” Ventress smirked, and Kenobi laughed gently.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes to training with a beaten Anakin in his room,” he laughed, and Ventress snorted, leaving them in comfortable silence before the plates were whisked away.

Meanwhile, Anakin chased Ahsoka back to her room, the Knight shouting at his former Padawan. “You are _not_ going to train with him!”

Ahsoka ignored him, opening the door to her room and walking in. Anakin followed, growling even more commands at her, and he finally shouted, “If you do this, Ahsoka, where do you draw the line between Jedi and Sith?” She froze, her entire body rigid, and Anakin knew in that moment he fucked up. “Snips, I didn’t--”

“Where do I draw the line, you ask?” she growled, turning to face him. A maniacal laugh broke the air, the girl stalking towards him. He tried to back up, but she had him rooted to the spot, the Force swirling in the air around her in a dark and malevolent way. “I was _kicked out_ of the Jedi Order, Anakin. I have been framed for murder, by my _friends._ I have been ridiculed, ostracized, and flat-out _ignored_ because I was your Padawan. You have _no right_ to question me, or my motives.”

“I have every right,” he snarled at her before he could stop himself, and with a roar, she punched him in the jaw, shoving him out of the room and locking the door, trying to reign in her anger.

_Shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have done that,_ she told herself, her chest heaving and eyes wide. What had come over her? She was better than this. She was a Jedi, for Force’s sake; she should be calm, cool, collected. But there was more than that in her, a darkness swirling in the pool of light. It existed in an unstable harmony, two wolves fighting each other for dominance.

She stepped away from the door, taking a breath and getting a grip on herself. It was the stress of the mission, it had to be. Capture Kenobi, bring down the Sith. That was the mission. She could do that, with or without the help of Anakin.

Kenobi could teach her to control this, or he would teach her to harness it. Her anger was getting the best of her, not knowing what this mission really was was getting the best of her. The Jedi had their own endgame—bringing down the Sith would probably look really nice on her resume from now on out, but what did _Ronin_ want? Training, dining, _living_ with Sith wasn’t part of the original plan, as far as she knew.

“Snips, I’m sorry,” Anakin called from the other side of the door, bringing her out of her reverie. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you say it?” She shouted back, her voice cracking defensively.

“I was upset, I was angry. I deserved every bit of your fury, I’m sorry,” he murmured, but he didn’t know if she heard him, because no reply came.

He groaned, banging his head against the door and then walking away, unceremoniously bumping into Kenobi as he was walking back to his room. _Day four,_ he thought to himself. _Day four and it’s already gone wrong. Ronin is gone, for who knows how long, leaving Ahsoka and I with two Darksiders that may or may not want to kill us. This is great. Nice job, Skywalker, this is a royal mess you’ve gotten yourself into._

“Skywalker,” Kenobi nodded, and proceeded to walk past him, only to stop and catch his arm. “Wait, let me see that.” Anakin didn’t stop him, the Sith tilting the Jedi’s jaw to get a view of the purpling bruise. A low whistle emanated from him, and then he said, “Bet you deserved every ounce of that one.”

“I did,” he grunted, and pulled his jaw away. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

The Jedi walked away, leaving the Sith in silence amongst the red-carpeted halls. A sly grin grew on his face, and Kenobi thought, _This one will be fun. Much fun, indeed._

If the fight reawoken in Ahsoka brought her to defend herself against his verbal assaults, there was hope for the girl. No wonder Ronin had taken a liking to her. The strength and determination this girl would have now, her drive, her focus, everything now recentered, recalibrated on one mission.

Kenobi went to his room, still trashed from his tantrum the other day, and changed from his black tunic and trousers to a similarly colored wardrobe, but the items much looser, more breathable.

The training hall Kenobi had always thought was the most architecturally pleasing places in the whole compound. It was a city block long, and nearly just as tall; carved from the volcanic obsidian, the black vaults glittering in the dim lights like black diamond. He sat in the center of the obsidian mosaic in the floor, the beautiful stone placed in a perfect seven-layer mandala. When he sensed Ahsoka’s approach, he brought himself to the edge of the circle, meditating.

Ahsoka walked in, dropping her items on the floor and stepping in across from him, kneeling and pressing her forehead to the floor. Her black shirt and black pants were an oddly fitting color for her, Kenobi thought, but this girl was no Sith. She’d never be a Sith. “It is an honor to work with you, Master Kenobi.”

The Sith opened his eyes, a wicked smile flickering across the golden orbs.

*~*~*

_“Faster, Ahsoka.”_

Kenobi’s words were heard, but not heeded, _obviously,_ as the Jedi girl went sliding across the floor, Anakin’s face a smug triumph. Kenobi snarled and shoved Anakin aside, the Sith’s saber raised. “Fine. If you won't fight him, you'll fight me.”

The red blade thrummed to life, and Anakin raised his voice to protest. “She might kill you,” he warned.

Kenobi only smirked, the red dancing off the gold mischievous of his eyes. “I'd like to see her try.”

Ahsoka gulped, her wide eyes turning to Anakin for further help. He shook his head and backed away, sitting on the floor outside the marked ring. “I'm sorry, Ahsoka.”

She nodded, taking a breath and raising her sabers. Her blue eyes were tense, and with the way she pranced around the Sith, watching, waiting, she was fatigued. So fatigued, he mused, she might finally understand what he was asking her to do.

“Are you afraid?” Kenobi asked her in the silence.

She blinked in surprise, but murmured out her answer. “Yes.” It echoed along the walls, her weak, exhausted voice the only sound in the room save for the quiet humming of their sabers.

A smile graced Kenobi's face. “Good. Fight me still.”

“But.... Why?” She asked him.

Instead of replying, he only settled into the first stance of Soresu, carefully circling the Jedi. She sighed, reaching out into the Force, calling it to her as she centered herself. When he was behind her, he struck. His blow was met by a green saber, sparks flying past his face as the yellow one cut underneath, the girl’s eyes closed and mind open. _You're doing it again,_ Kenobi grinned. _On purpose. In combat._

He was so, so beautifully enraptured by her.

She settled into Juyo, but she was patient with her techniques. She listened for her opening, the Force whispering in her ear. But when she struck, it was all Kenobi could do to keep up with her blows. Green and yellow clashed with red, the girl dancing around his defenses like it was nothing. A grace accompanied her techniques that only a Master could have, the Force guiding her hand more than she probably knew. Anakin sat, enraptured, at his former Padawan’s sudden evolution into a graceful warrior.

With a grunt, she kicked him out of the ring, the Sith stumbling back with the addition of a Force-push. He sat on the floor, staring up at her in stunned silence.

Anakin started slow-clapping as she came to, extracting herself from the Force. Her sabers disengaged as she spun them in her hand, smiling. “How did I do?”

“I've never seen you fight like that,” Anakin murmured, awe in his features.

“Indeed, Ahsoka. That was.... Exemplary. You gave me a run for my money,” Kenobi commented, pulling himself up off the floor.

She only shoved her sabers onto her belt, seeming disturbed. With a small voice, she said, “I don't think I can continue today.”

Kenobi nodded. “That is fine. I'll beat up Anakin instead.”

She didn't even smile. She just turned away and walked down the hall, the borrowed black clothes seeming too big for how small the girl was making herself.

“What was she shown?” Anakin breathed, and even Kenobi could sense his worry.

“Likely something she didn't want to see.” He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. “Do you want to check on her first, or do you want to continue right away?”

It took the Jedi a moment to decide. “Continue,” he finally replied. “She probably wants to be alone.”

Kenobi nodded, and ignited his saber. “At the ready, Skywalker. I won't be as easy on you as I have been in the past.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Anakin grinned, and pulled himself together quickly enough to block the first strike.

With a flurry of blows, each significantly harder to block, Kenobi advanced, the Jedi quickly losing ground. _What is he doing?_ He asked himself. _He's a master of Soresu, of patience.... Why is he rushing me?_

Anakin blocked another strike and shoved Kenobi off of him, eyes narrowed as they circled. _He's trying to teach me Soresu,_ Anakin finally realized.

So he called up his memory and mimicked Kenobi’s starting position, the gleeful smirk on his face showing his pleasure. Whether at Anakin’s realization or his mistake, the Jedi wasn't sure, but at least there was a change. From there, Anakin got sloppy. Soresu was the exact opposite of what he fought for; it was slow, patient, and watchful, completely different from the other forms Anakin used in combat, when instinct and reaction were meant to keep you alive.

Hours of this went by. Shirts came off, and Anakin found it hard not to stare at the muscle on Kenobi’s body and the way sweat rolled down them. For the umpteenth time, though, his distraction was enough for Kenobi to deliver a potentially fatal blow.

Anakin didn't get up off the floor right away, though Kenobi’s weight straddling his hips was preventing that. His body was exhausted, his muscles aching. Kenobi didn't push him, either, but he seemed significantly less fatigued than Anakin was. Kenobi grinned, biting on his lip before shaking his head and hauling himself off the Jedi.

“How do you do it?” Anakin panted. “How do you keep fighting?”

Kenobi paused, and then said, “Maybe I have something to fight for.” His reply left Anakin stunned in silence, and then he murmured, “You're done for the day, Anakin. Any further work would only lead to destruction of technique, not buildup. Get some food, get some rest, and I will see you tomorrow. Understood?”

Anakin nodded, tossing his sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes. “Gimme a sec.”

Kenobi only smiled, tossing his shirt over his shoulder. “Take all the time you need, Anakin. I won't work you to death.”

He sauntered away, his footsteps silent even in the echoing room. Soon, Anakin was the only one left in there, and he picked himself up off the floor and gathered his things, stumbling back to his shared quarters with Ronin. He showered, but only because Ronin would have killed him if he didn't. The steam soothed his muscles, and he was falling asleep standing up, the Jedi too tired to even think about eating. He collapsed on his cot, half-dressed and hair still dripping wet.

~*~*~

_In the absence of much of the Council, the message had read, sessions would be postponed until_ further notice.

Thus, the remaining Council was gathered around mess hall tables, Kit Fisto and Luminara Unduli sitting quietly away from the group. Luminara pushed her food around with the chopsticks, the noodles from the overly-salty mess hall food nearly inedible mush. Kit hadn’t even bothered to get food, his head in his hands and sighing deeply, probably trying to maintain his sanity.

Nearby, the newer additions to the Council following the deaths of the others gossiped like schoolchildren, leaving the two more experienced Jedi that _hadn’t_ been sent off on a mission doing their best to maintain their anger and frustration.

“Skywalker has been gone for what, a week now? Still no word,” one murmured, and quite frankly, Luminara didn’t care enough to remember their names. Some days she was lucky she remembered her own.

“He’s getting lazy with reporting, I think. Probably doesn’t want to tell us that he’s going off-orders— _again,_ ” another murmured.

The third and final addition shrugged. “Maybe he’s busy fucking that bartender—what was her name? _Ronin?_ Does that sound like a fake name, or is it just me?”

“I know right,” the second murmured, her hazel eyes rolling. “I wish he wasn’t the Chosen One. I would be _much_ more responsible than that.”

“I doubt it, Cassian,” the first snorted. “Last I checked, you were busy competing with Quinlan Vos for who could down more Twi’lek vodka.”

Kit extended a kind hand towards the shaking Luminara, the Mirialan barely maintaining her composure, as the trio of assholes continued their triage. Mariana was more than an expendable civilian—she was a renowned warrior, expertly trained by the finest in the galaxy, and had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge; yes, this fed her ego and sent it through the roof, and her sociopathic tendencies made her _very_ hard to deal with on a social level, but she was still considered a friend by the Jedi Master. And Anakin? Anakin was the closest thing she’d had to a brother in an exceedingly long time. She’d be damned if she didn’t stand up for them.

Kit shook his head, sensing the Master’s intentions as she stood, but she ignored him as she approached the group. “Don’t any of you have anything better to do than criticize the actions of the Council long before you were even part of it?” She snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Cassian, the second speaker, paled, and quickly opened her mouth to apologize. Luminara raised her hand, cutting the human Jedi off. “You are nothing more than a pawn in the Grandmaster’s plan, Cassian. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your Padawan are sent off and shortly thereafter killed. You’re even more reckless and irresponsible than Skywalker, who has a _very specific_ mission, and may not necessarily be able to report for Council meetings or for an update.” Kit groaned from his position at the end of the table, and Luminara smirked as the younger, less experienced Masters paled. “Also,” she continued, smiling. “You’re right. Ronin _is_ a fake name.”

“Lum, don’t,” Kit warned, and the Master shrugged.

“Oh, Master Fisto, they’re on the Council! They deserve to know, yes?” Luminara turned to them, grinning. “Ronin is the presumed-dead Mariana Chayten, former Jedi Padawan of Sithkiller Obi-Wan Kenobi. You are completely disrespecting a graceful and beautiful legacy left by Masters Qui-Gon Jinn, Mace Windu, even Grandmaster Yoda, by talking _filthy_ things about her.” Luminara leaned in, grinning even wider. “I’ve seen her recently. She’s now blind, and could _easily_ kick all of you off the Council. Even as an outsider. Be careful of whom you speak, _children,_ because you don’t know the whole story.”

She shoved past them, gathering her food and throwing it out before calling to Kit. “Let’s go,” she murmured. “Master Windu should be landing soon.”

And she was right, the duo soon found out. Mace Windu landed, tired, dirty, and battle-worn a half an hour later. His robes were torn and burnt, and his Padawan came stumbling out too, her face horrified and dead tired.

“Master Luminara,” he bluntly stated. “I really hope you’re not here to tell me that some of the new members have somehow managed to anger the unshakeable Luminara Unduli.”

“That conversation can be held at another time,” she murmured, looking him up and down. “You and your Padawan need rest, it seems.” Windu stepped off his ship, grimacing, and Luminara rushed to his side, supporting his weight some. “And medical attention,” she amended.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he grunted, and Luminara looked to his Padawan for an answer.

“We got caught in Sep fire,” she murmured. “I was pinned down, cornered; my Clones were dead, and I was outnumbered forty to one. I thought I was going to die, and then he jumped out of nowhere. I’ve never seen him that angry; he took two shots to the chest, plus whatever he caught from fighting Dooku.”

“You fought Dooku and _lived?_ ” Luminara gasped.

“Contrary to what Skywalker believes,” he grunted out, “I am not, in fact, a helpless old man.” Luminara walked him to a stair where he could rest, and he sighed out his pain, resting his head in his hand. “We were ambushed. It was a trap.”

“Anakin had the same problem with the negotiations. It seems to be the _motus operandum_ for the Seps lately. Revis wasn’t there?”

Mace shook his head. “Neither was Navini, if he’s even still alive. Just Dooku and Grevious.”

“I’m glad you lived, Master,” his Padawan murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder.

A small smile graced his face. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to see you die, so…”

“So you almost die yourself,” Luminara sighed. “I understand completely, between Barriss and Ahsoka.”

A medic finally came, and helped the Master to the medical wing. Luminara followed, parting ways with Kit as she continued to walk with the medics. Once there, they stripped him of his upper robes, and Luminara grimaced at the damage.

“I did the best I could with what I had,” his Padawan murmured. “He didn’t really want it, either. He thought my injuries were worse.”

“You were injured as well?” the healer asked, his silver eyes glancing up.

“Not horribly,” she murmured. “A few broken ribs, a sprained ankle; I wasn’t dying, basically. He was.”

Luminara glanced at the girl. “How did you--?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I really don’t know.”

She looked away, logging the conversation in her mind for another time. Mace only stared at the ceiling as bacta patches were added after an initial cleaning of the wounds. “There’s only so much she could do,” the healer muttered. “But she did a damn fine job, that’s for sure. Who taught you?”

“Barriss,” she shyly admitted. “Barriss and Ahsoka. Both of them.”

“Barriss is trained by the most skilled healers in the Temple, and, well, Tano spends a lot of time patching both herself and Skywalker up, so you were taught by good people,” the healer murmured. “Maybe you should consider becoming a healer.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she stammered. “I thought I’d dabble in a little bit of everything, you know? Better to be a jack of all trades than a master of one?”

The healer smiled. “Of course. Having a skilled field medic that can also be a diplomat and a warrior can prove infallibly useful. Congratulations, Master Windu.”

“It was her own choice,” he waved. “I just allowed it.” He turned to Luminara. “So why did you come to my landing?”

Luminara sighed, and then briefly recapped what happened in the mess hall. “I wasn’t going to stand for my friend’s honor being bashed, Master Windu. Forgive my insolence.”

“Luminara,” Mace grinned, laughing a little. “That was the most unlike you story I have _ever_ heard, and I’ve heard a lot of stories and rumors from others. But to hear that from your own mouth, and your first instinct is to _inform me_ and _apologize_ … It has to be true.”

“It is,” she murmured, looking away in shame.

“That is _fucking_ hilarious,” Windu said with a solid, straight face, shaking his head. “That is bloody hilarious. What did their faces look like? What—?”

“Master,” Luminara interrupted, “you’re _not_ upset?”

Mace snorted, shaking his head. “I would have done far, far worse, including removing them from the Council effective immediately, which will happen anyway, but to hear the fact _you_ did something to defend Mariana’s honor, even after all she put you through, put _us_ through, shows the true love and compassion of a Jedi. However, I am concerned for your attachments to her.”

“I have let go of her, Master Windu, I just…. I’ve been waiting for the right time,” Luminara finally murmured. “The right time to talk to her, to ask her _why._ ”

“Depa, please step out for a moment,” Mace quipped, and wordlessly, the girl began to leave.

“No, she can stay. What happened to Mariana should not be a secret,” Luminara humphed. “She fell, Mace. Your apprentice, my friend, fell.”

“She was more than just _my apprentice,_ Master Unduli. You’re treading on dangerous ground,” Mace warned her, and Depa’s eyes flicked between Luminara and her Master.

“Yours, Yoda’s, Kenobi’s, Qui-Gon’s, _what does it matter?_ We weren’t there for her when she needed us, Mace, and when you expelled her from the Order—”

“We never expelled her from the Order,” Mace quietly murmured.

“Excuse me?” Luminara breathed, eyes wide.

Mace sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as the healer finished stitching him up. “We never expelled her from the Order. Grandmaster Yoda thought that if we knighted her, without her knowing she was knighted, she would grow into the Jedi she was always meant to be—we sent her with Quinlan, Sithhunting, like she was used to, but it backfired.”

“She thought the Order _abandoned_ her!” Luminara growled, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Keep it together, Master Unduli,” Mace snarled. “We did not abandon her. We thought she died, in the custody of Duchess Satine on Mandalore when the Palace was bombed. I only wonder what she found there.”

Luminara sat there, in stunned silence, before standing and leaving. She brushed past Depa, who looked confused and concerned, and out of the medical wing. Mace groaned, his head hitting the top of his bed with a defeated sigh.

“What now, Master?” Depa asked. “If the Council is divided—”

“Do not worry, Depa. We will figure this out,” he grunted, and pushed himself off the cot. “Help me to my chambers, then go seek medical attention yourself. I won’t have you injured without attention, Depa. I’ll call on you in a few days to help me give my report to the Council.”

“Of course,” she murmured, sliding her arm around her master’s waist and helping him to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pains in her ribs.

She didn’t leave immediately like her Master wanted, but made him a pot of proper tea first, kissing the top of his head in a rare, out-of-line show of affection, and brought him a knit blanket that she’d made for him at some point on a particularly boring mission.

He smiled as she left, pulling the purple blanket over his legs as he stretched out, and then grabbed his comm.

~*~*~

Anakin was awoken from a dreamless slumber, his comm angrily beeping. Without checking the number, he answered it. “Yes, this is Skywalker.”

_“Skywalker!”_ Mace Windu shouted at him. _“A week, and no word! Mariana just docked back on Coruscant without you or Tano--”_

“She had bigger things to handle. She will return,” Anakin snarled back, cradling his aching head as he sat up. His eyes flicked to the clock, the red numbers flashing on the screen. _Zero four hundred hours._

_“There is nothing more important than this mission!”_ Mace snarled at him.

“Listen, her fiancé died. Ahsoka and I can handle this, _with_ or _without_ Ronin.” He cracked his neck, trying to wake up enough to deal with Mace Windu. “It’s not even dawn, Master Windu. I don’t even know if Kenobi is awake or not, and if he is, you best pray he doesn’t hear us.”

The line was silent for a moment, and then Windu sighed, in a more even voice. _“What’s he like?”_

“He is brilliantly talented, and very smart. He seems in control, but he always has cut knuckles and bleeding arms, as if he’s--”

“Self-harm. Yes, I was afraid of that,” Ahsoka blurted out, and Anakin sleepily raised his head to see Ahsoka standing in the corner. “Sorry. I felt you were awake, so I came in to investigate. If we’re giving a report, I might as well be involved.”

_“No, no, Tano. By all means,”_ Mace murmured, and there was a sigh. _“Has he and Mari...?”_

“Fucked?” Ahsoka and Anakin asked simultaneously.

_“Language, Skywalker, Tano, but…. yes.”_ Mace’s strange concern for Ronin surprised the two, but they said nothing of it. Maybe he spent more time with her than Ronin made it sound.

The two Jedi exchanged glances before Anakin sighed. “If you’re asking that question, then you already know the answer.”

Another sigh. _“Yes. I was afraid of that.”_

Ahsoka took a deep breath and came in closer to the comm, sitting next to Anakin. “Kenobi doesn’t really deal with Anakin much, but he’s shown intentions on trying to get on his good side. I’m pretty sure Ventress is too busy threatening him with knives or he’s hiding with Ronin to avoid being around Kenobi. He’s around me, though. Quite a bit.” Anakin bit his lip, his mind flicking to the image of a pleased, sweaty Kenobi, grinning with his weight pinning the younger blond down. He had to shift to hide his discomfort.

_“And?”_ Mace asked her, and with a sigh, she continued.

“He’s.... Really trying to get me to tolerate him. Without invading my mind,” Ahsoka amended. “He’s gentle with me, honest with me, willing to help and.... Vulnerable, in a way.” She scrubbed at her face with her hands. “I’m having a hard time believing he’s a Sith.”

“Ahsoka!” Anakin growled.

“I’m sorry, Anakin, but let’s remember what happened when we got here, shall we?” Ahsoka growled at him, and turned to face him. “You were offered up to them so that we all wouldn’t die, yes? Mari’s plan. You were hauled in by Ventress, which was hilarious, followed closely by Ronin who was probably making sure that you didn’t _die,_ and Kenobi and I had a nice little chat in the hangar bay.” Anakin nodded, eyes narrowed. “Kenobi and I get in there, Ventress is threatening to electrocute you and Ronin is trying to save your ass. You, being the _brave little Jedi_ , sat in a ball and prayed for it to be over.”

Mace snorted, and Anakin curled his lip at her. “You weren’t doing much better. Just banging your head against the wall.”

“The situation was out of my control,” Ahsoka snarled back. “Kenobi saved your ass, Anakin. He told Ronin to keep a leash on you and when she didn’t, it didn’t even _faze_ him. And all you’ve done is try to kill him! That’s not even the _mission,_ Skyguy, and you know that.”

Silence filled the room, and then Mace sighed. _“Understood. I will share your results with the rest of the Council, Skywalker. However, you would be likely pleased to inform that Learner Barriss Offee has passed her trials.”_

“Good for her,” Ahsoka grunted out. “I’m going to get food. Maybe Ventress will kill me, who knows or cares.”

She stood, leaving the room with a flourish. Anakin stared at her, confusedly, as she left, the dim glow from the lava outside the windows illuminating the room.

_“What’s with Tano?”_ Mace asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he murmured, confusion radiating from him.

_“Best find out, Skywalker. She’s as vital to this plan as Mariana. Windu, out.”_

The Jedi Master terminated the call long before Skywalker had any time to process what he said, leaving the Knight in a confused, sad pile on the cot. _I’m sure she’s fine,_ Anakin mused. _Barriss has always been a touchy subject for her. Always._

Anakin only sighed, rolling back onto his cot and promptly falling back asleep. This time, though, it wasn’t so peaceful.

_“Daddy!”_

_A little girl’s voice shouted at him as he rounded the corner on a desert planet, the said girl tackling him as she pounced. A boy, about the same age, rounded the corner, smiling wide at the sight of their father._

_Anakin laughed, scooping them up and hugging them close to his chest. He sat in the sand, letting the kids play with his hair and relishing their attention._

_“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A familiar voice spoke evenly, kindly, as her footsteps on the sand stopped. Anakin twisted to see Ahsoka standing there, smiling and her eyes tired. “Seems the prodigal father has returned.”_

_“Ahsoka, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you!” He exclaimed, the kids bouncing to her side._

_“The twins sure are happy to see you.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Kids, get inside.”_

_“Auntie Ahsoka!” The boy whined._

_“Now, Luke. Take Leia with you.” Ahsoka’s eyes followed them until they were safely in the little house behind her. “What did you do?” she whisper-shouted at him._

_“I did what had to be done,” he shrugged, getting up and brushing the sand off of his dark clothes. “The Order will not try to find me again.”_

_“You killed the Order, Skyguy! That is not the way of going about things now, you know that,” she murmured to him._

_“We will discuss this later. Right now, I want to be with my children.” He tried to push his way past her, but her ignited white saber stopped him in his tracks._

_“I can't let you do that, Anakin.” Her voice was soft, melodic; her eyes sorrowful, as if it was the last thing she wanted to do._

_“Why not? They're my children,” he warned._

_She didn't meet his gaze, but the saber remained. “Those kids are the only hope to peace in this galaxy. I cannot let you jeopardize that.”_

_“What do you know of peace, Ahsoka?” He growled, eyes flashing._

_“I am a Gray Jedi, Skyguy.” Her eyes were level now, her resolve concrete. “My very life is to defend peace. What you have done is inexcusable.”_

_Anakin nodded, averting his eyes and backing up. “I see.... You think I'm a monster.”_

_She didn't say anything, the wraps around her arms only shifting with the graceful movement of her saber. Anakin nodded again, and drew his own. “So this is how it's going to be.”_

_“Unfortunately.”_

_His blue blade ignited with a thrum, the tip drawing circles in the sand as he waited. Patience was something they both learned, but he knew that if it was a waiting game she wanted, she would win._

_So he charged, the man clashing with his former Padawan. Her white saber had a twin, the two blades working in beautiful harmony._

_The fight seemed to drag on for hours, and the final blow was struck. Ahsoka looked down at him in pity, her former master’s arm writhing in the sand nearby before laying limp like his body slowly became._

_As she began to walk away, he looked up at her with wide eyes. “You're just going to leave me here?”_

_“You were my friend, my Master, my hero, Anakin. I loved you. You betrayed my trust, my love, my faith, for the Sith.” She looked down at him, and then called his saber into her hand. “Call your Master and have him save you, because I won't. Goodbye, Anakin Skywalker. You’ll find me when you’ve changed.”_

_As she walked away, into the building, he could only roar in anger, his two children soon fading from his ability to find them in the Force. He howled in pain then, and then all was still._

Anakin awoke with a gasp, sweat drenching his body. Kenobi stood over him, curiosity on his face. “Oh, it's you,” Anakin growled.

“Breakfast.” Kenobi’s eyes searched up and down Anakin’s bare torso, and then looked away. “And if you ever want someone to talk to about that dream--”

“No.” Anakin cut him off, pulling on his boots and a shirt. “Let's go.”

~*~*~

Weeks blended together like that. Days went by, easily and assuredly. Wake up, eat, train, eat, sleep, repeat. Every other day they were given some time in the morning to read and be leisurely, and slowly, Anakin started talking to Kenobi more. It was mainly civil talk, small things like you’re meeting a stranger who you’re not even worried about trying to kill you. Tense, Anakin mused, would not describe their conversations accurately enough. Ronin came back two standard weeks after she left, ten days of training with Kenobi and Ventress without supervision. She was tired, Anakin recalled; emotionally tired. A lot of her fight seemed to be gone.

They were in the fourth week of their stay on Mustafar, every fifth day accented by a call to Coruscant if they could manage, explaining what they knew to the Council. But Ronin started getting antsy when dealing with her former master more than she’d like, Anakin figured.He, though, assumed wrong. Ronin had spent most of her time back locked in her room, to the point where Anakin had to stay with Ahsoka in the corner of her room. It had shocked Kenobi when he saw Anakin laying in the corner, sound asleep, and Ahsoka fidgeting away with a couple of pieces of metal, bending them to her will with the Force and her fingers.

“Why isn’t he on a cot or something?” Kenobi had asked her.

Without looking at him, she only shrugged and said, “Said the cots were too soft. He couldn’t sleep right.”

The Sith harrumphed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What about you?”

“I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, sometimes, thinking I’m falling through the bed because I’m sinking too far into it.”

Her bluntness stunned him; often, he forgot that as a Jedi, Ahsoka had seen war at the age of twelve—far too young for anyone to see that kind of devastation and destruction. Kenobi paused. “I never really looked at it that way.”

“You never saw combat as a Jedi.”

Her blunt statements should have been a warning to him, but the sixteen-year-old was being just that in his mind: sixteen. “Ahsoka,” he pressed, “I was present during the Mandalorian Civil War.”

“Big deal,” she grunted. “Did anyone close to you die?”

He flinched, and she raised an eyebrow. _So he wasn’t the perfect Jedi,_ she mused. “You had a girlfriend,” she murmured, a look of righteous awe on her face.

“Satine,” he murmured. “She was killed, in a bombing. It was shortly after I became a Sith.”

“That sucks,” Ahsoka shrugged.

The silence ensued, and then Kenobi was at his wit’s end. “So, what about you? What have you lost?”

She let the shards of metal drop into her lap, her eyes still focused on the dark steel. “When I was fifteen, my best friend at the time bombed the Jedi Temple. She framed me for it. Before that, I watched Clones I had grown fond of killed in combat. Hundreds of them. Heavy, Echo, Fives,” she murmured. “Most of ‘em were shinies, but I liked them. They had spirit. Lots of fight. And they knew where they belonged, too. Under a Jedi, fighting, serving, protecting. I wish I knew where I belonged like that.”

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka—”

“I’m not done,” she murmured, but her soft voice contrasted her sharp tone. “I lost Padawan friends. I lost outsider friends. I lost myself in this stars-forsaken war. I have visions, nightmares, whatever you want to call them, of the people I couldn’t save. Of the _Clones_ I couldn’t save.” Her blue eyes flicked to his. “You don’t know what kind of damage this war has done. I saw combat at the age of twelve. My entire life before it was spent teaching me how to be peaceful, how to keep people calm and happy, and here we are, _killing_ them, like animals!”

Kenobi averted his eyes from her intense gaze. There were questions there, questions whose answers he didn’t have. “I wish I could help you, Ahsoka.”

He felt her gaze leave him as she settled back against the headboard, a disgusted smirk on her face. “No,” she grumbled, “you don’t.”

The silence that ensued was tense, but Anakin woke up, grumbling and sitting up. “’Soka,” he murmured. “I still feel like I spent a thousand years in the belly of the Sarlacc.”

She snorted. “Did you try drinking water?”

“Yes, Ahsoka, I tried everything! These migraines won’t stop,” he grunted.

“Migraines?” Kenobi asked, looking to Anakin in confusion.

“Yeah, he gets them about once or twice a week now. Skyguy was sick in the bathroom earlier, Ronin got so pissed at him that he had me come get him and help him back over here. It’s why he misses training sometimes.” Ahsoka tossed the metal shards in the air again, spinning them with a slight movement of her fingers. She was furious over something, but the Sith couldn’t place what it was. Maybe it was dealing with Anakin’s pain? _How do they even still have a training bond? The Council would have ripped it out of them,_ Kenobi mused, but looked to Anakin. _If they still have one, I’ll be damned if I don’t try to help._

He felt the Sith part of him snort in retaliation, saying, _Help? You sound like a Jedi._ _These people are your enemies, Revis. You should_ kill _them, not help them._

Ignoring that voice, he simply said, “Here, let me see. I used to get them when I was in my teens and when I was still a Jedi.” Kenobi came over in front of Anakin, lifting his head by his chin as gold eyes searched blue. Pain clouded the Jedi’s eyes, and he turned to Ahsoka and saw the same pain. _They are connected._

Anakin struggled to keep his eyes focused on Kenobi’s, the light from the lamps shining into his eyes and sending pounding spears of pain into his eyes. “Just look at me,” Kenobi murmured, and Anakin nodded, the man’s voice somehow not hurting him.

He felt him pushing at the edges of his mind, trying to probe past the insane mental shields Anakin had put up. Kenobi’s eyes never left his, searching but not quite _seeing._ Anakin studied him, and in his delirious state, he found it incredibly hard _not_ to find beauty in the man. With a quiet _aha,_ there was a releasing of some of the pressure, Anakin closing his eyes in relief and resting his head on the man’s bare torso. Kenobi held him there, the Jedi sighing in relief. _Thank you,_ he heard Anakin project, and Kenobi smiled.

“What did you do?” Ahsoka asked, sitting up and turning her eyes to the pair on the floor.

“I located the source of his tension and released it. The pain will ease with time but the sensitivity will at least not be a problem.” Kenobi went to stand, but Anakin’s hand kept him in place. An insistent look in the Jedi’s eyes told Kenobi he should walk away. Every fiber of his being wanted to walk away, but the desperation in those blue eyes left him motionless.

He had seen Anakin. He had seen him with sweat dripping down his muscular torso, driving him insane. He had seen him asleep, he had seen nightmares dance across his eyelids. But he had _never_ , ever, seen that raw emotion from the Jedi.

“Ahsoka, can you leave us for a moment?” Anakin croaked out.

The girl’s eyes flicked to Kenobi, suspicion in her gaze.

“I promise not to harm him in any way,” Kenobi nodded. “You have my word, Ahsoka.”

She nodded and left the room, relief in the way her body moved. _She trusts me,_ Kenobi murmured to himself, in shock. _Why?_

“Because you’ve done nothing to her to make her think that you’re not worthy of it,” Anakin grunted out.

“You heard that?”

A small smile graced his face, the Jedi flinching away from the harsh white light of the lamp. “Can you turn out the light?”

Kenobi nodded, getting up and clicking off the switch. Anakin relaxed and sighed out his relief, and then carefully stood. “Why did you have Ahsoka leave?” the ginger asked him, and Anakin took a breath.

“Because I wanted to see how you two work together, when I’m around.” He pushed himself off the wall, but was unable to maintain his balance. Kenobi caught him with the Force, then hoisted him up into his arms and laid him on the bed.

“You need to rest,” Kenobi gently scolded him.

“Oh, please. I’ve fought in a war with migraines before, this is nothing.” Anakin caught his arm, and then said, “Tell me. Why do you not like Sidious?”

“‘There must always be two, no more, no less; one to embody power, and one to crave it,’” Kenobi recited. “The Rule of Two for the Sith.”

“So?” Anakin asked. “I’m not following.”

Kenobi sighed, sitting on the other side of the bed facing him. “It means that there can only be two true Sith… but with me, Dooku, Sidious, and Ronin, that makes four.”

“So, you want Sidious gone so you can take his place?”

“Something like that. Sidious poses a threat to the Republic and the corruption within, but he can’t solve the problem without creating a dictatorship. Fascism is not the solution to this problem that plagues the galaxy.” Kenobi patted Anakin’s knee, then started tracing circles, almost subconsciously.

“I agree,” Anakin nodded. “But… Who is he?”

Hesitation. Kenobi averted his gaze, and the Jedi sat up. “You know.”

“I do,” he murmured. “You won’t believe me, or even Ronin if we tell you. He’s grooming you, Anakin. Making you trust him so he can _use_ you.” Kenobi’s golden eyes flashed with fear, and he looked away. “I want to protect you, Anakin. If you fall to the Sith, the galaxy will fall into a state of darkness never seen before.”

“Why do you care?” Anakin suddenly asked him.

_Because I’m attracted to you—_ “Because you’re Ronin’s friend. I can’t see her in more pain than she already is, than I’ve already brought her.” _Good save, Kenobi. Good save._

Anakin didn’t seem to buy it, though. His eyes traced the fading marks from Ronin, some almost completely gone. Some of them had scarred, matching the silvery pink of the others that dotted his body. Bruises were fresh, some the size of a fist, others from stars know what, deep purple and swollen. “What did you do?”

Kenobi shrugged. “I disappointed my master. It is my punishment.”

Anakin looked up at him, a form of possession in his eyes that flickered away almost as soon as it came. It made Kenobi’s heart race, and he almost felt the confusion that followed. “If destroying your body is a punishment, what’s the difference between you and a slave?” Kenobi gaped at him as he stood, leaving the room with the Force around him. He stopped in the doorway, and said, “Remember that, Kenobi. If he treats you no better than I was treated on Tattoine, then what’s the difference between him and the people you kill?”

Kenobi watched as he left, sitting in Ahsoka’s room. _What is the difference?_ Kenobi asked himself.

Anakin Skywalker had planted the seed of doubt, of true disobedience, and Kenobi didn’t know if he wanted to remove it.

*~*~*

Anakin went with Ronin, later that day, to Tatooine. He wanted to see his mother and Owen, and maybe, if he was lucky, he could figure out that vision he had in the holocron.

It was a short trip, in his opinion, though he’d been lost in thought. _Twin suns. Twin children._ It seemed about as straightforward as the Force got, but he still wasn’t sure. They set down in Toshi Station, not far from Mos Epsa, and disembarked. Ronin had waved him off with the premise of her having unfinished business and to meet her there at sundown, no later. “I don’t want to stay in this dustbowl longer than we have to,” she’d said. He’d laughed. He had once felt the same way, living under the Hutts. Now, he was free… In a way. He was free of a master, but was still chained; chained like a _slave_ to his own emotions and the Jedi, in a way.

_No, Anakin,_ he chastised himself as he rented a speeder. _They’re your friends. They’re not enslaving you. You’re just around Kenobi too much._ Yes, that was it, he determined as he sped along the sand dunes in the direction of his family; just around a Sith too long. Deep down, in his soul, in his heart, he knew that wasn’t true. He was starting to _understand_ Kenobi, and piece by piece, he started to agree with him.

When he got off the speeder, he was greeted by a surprised, “ _Ani?!”_ and his mother rushing out to hug him. Shmi wrapped her arms around her son, the Jedi shocked but relaxed into her touch. He was safe. She was safe.

“Where’s Ronin?” she suddenly asked, and Anakin looked at his mother in shock.

“Mom? How do you know about Ronin? I never told you about her!”

Shmi paled, her eyes wide. “She hasn’t told you yet, has she?” When he didn’t answer, she nodded, taking his hand and ushering him down into the kitchen, away from the blistering heat of the sun. “Sit down, dear. Please,” she murmured, and Anakin obliged.

Almost immediately, there was a chorus of “Nana!” and two children rushed out to bury their faces in her stomach. She grinned, chuckling, and then turned the children to face him. “Luke, Leia, I want you to meet someone. This is Anakin, your father,” she said, and the look of total shock on Anakin’s face could not have been faked.

“I have children?” He asked in shock.

Shmi nodded. “With Padme. Ronin brought them here after…. After the incident. Asked me to raise them until she was ready to come get them and bring them to you. Is Ronin okay?”

Anakin nodded, sitting on the floor. “Yeah, she should be fine. She’s here, on Tatooine. I came with her,” he murmured. “So, Luke and Leia?”

The two children nodded, watching him with careful suspicion. They were about five, and he wiped away a tear. Leia’s long hair was coiled atop her head in a fashionable bun, likely inspired by her mother, and Luke’s blonde hair was tousled and messy. She looked like Padme, he looked like… well, him.

He didn’t need proof. That was proof enough.

“Come here,” he murmured, and the twins came and hugged him, tightly, as if that was all they needed too. “I will _never_ let you go, do you understand?”

Shmi only gave them a small smile. “Ani, dear… What about the Order? All you ever wanted to do was be a Jedi. This is your _dream._ ”

Anakin stood, the twins clinging to his legs. “Mom… I’m not so sure about the Order anymore. It’s falling apart at the seams, people hiding secrets. There’s rumors of the Negotiator’s return, of Darth Navini’s return, and of a Sith Master in the senate…. This is a trying time for the galaxy, and I should see it through its end, regardless of what happens to me.”

“But what about Luke and Leia?” She asked.

Someone ran down the stairs as Anakin looked down with pure love at the twins attached to his legs, his hands petting their hair. Luke reached for Anakin’s lightsaber, and Anakin laughed, gently saying, no, he couldn’t have it yet. One day, he might have his own.

“They’re just like you, Ani. They’re both so, so strong,” Shmi murmured. “I was considering taking them to the Jedi Order, but if you’re worried….”

Ronin stood in the doorway, her eyes tired. “I think I know where we can take them, where Kenobi won’t find them, or Ventress, or Sidious.”

“We are _not_ taking them back to Mustafar,” Anakin snapped at her. “There’s lava! _And Kenobi!”_

“We’ll have to, temporarily. I don’t want to separate them from you, not now,” Ronin murmured. “But then, we can take them to the Gray Jedi. There, they can be taught how to control the Force and not to fear it, and I can only hope Lors Tekka is still in power.”

“Are…. Are you sure that’s a smart decision?” Shmi asked. “I’ve heard stories about Jedha, about the anarchy that holds the moon firmly in its grip.”

Ronin shook her head. “I can’t take the risk, and I can’t risk Kenobi seeing them. Nothing against Kenobi, Anakin, but if Kenobi knows, Sidious will know, and then that’s bad news for _everyone_ in the galaxy.”

“What are you saying? He’ll manipulate me using them?” Anakin gestured to his own children, and Ronin sighed, nodding.

“He already tried it once, with Shmi. He wasn’t counting on Qui-Gon letting you go investigate your premonitions.” She shrugged, and when the kids finally willed themselves to pry away from the Jedi, they ran to the woman, the twins squealing in excitement at her presence. “I’ve been visiting them, about once a week,” she told Anakin in response to his curious glances. “I never wanted them to think they’d been abandoned. I taught them how to control the Force, to an extent, but they’re growing more rapidly than I can keep up with. They need an actual teacher, Anakin, not a failed Jedi and Sith.”

“Oh, please, you’re not _failed,_ ” Anakin rolled his eyes, and Shmi took the kids in her arms.

“Is everything settled?” Shmi asked Ronin.

The black-clad woman laughed. “For now. If you need me to deal with them again, just let me know.” She wiggled her fingers. “I _was_ trained by the famous Negotiator.”

“As a Jedi or as a Sith?” Shmi asked.

Ronin grinned. “Both. When he fell, I fell with him.”

Shmi paled a bit, and Anakin kissed her on the cheek. “Goodbye, Mom,” he murmured. “I promise not to be gone for so long.” He turned to the twins, kissing them on each of their heads. “Remember this, Luke, Leia. Trust the Force. Trust your instincts. They will always guide you in your destiny, I promise. I will return and I will take you somewhere safe, away from all of this.” He gave the trio a hug, and then said, “Tell Owen I said hello, and that I’m sorry I missed him.”

Shmi nodded, the gray-streaked dark hair accentuating the exhaustion in the woman’s sun-weathered face. “I will.”

“Bye, Mom,” Ronin smiled, kissing her on either side of her face. “ _Au revoir._ ”

“ _Au revoir,_ ” she responded, and Anakin ascended the stairs, Ronin behind him.

“Where’s the speeder?” Anakin asked her, and she shrugged.

“Jawas got it.”

He nodded in disbelief, and boarded the small cargo transport, finding crates upon crates of food and supplies in the transport. “What is this?” He asked her, shocked. “We don’t have the money for this!”

“Well, after you haggle a bit, we do,” Ronin shouted from the cockpit, flipping switches and preparing for takeoff.

“You stole from the Hutts!!” Anakin shouted at her as the ship began receiving fire.

“Yes I did. Sit down and strap in, pretty boy, ‘cause we’re about to make the jump.” She was aggressively flipping switches, Anakin jumping into the copilot’s seat and joining her. “Three, two, one,” she shouted over the noise, and then they were gone, into the silence of hyperspace.

Anakin snorted in disbelief and walked into the back, slamming a door to a room. He didn’t come out until they landed, the Sith woman patting his shoulder as she walked by.

Ahsoka ran out to greet him, but he brushed her off with a, “Hey, Snips,” and walked away, leaving Ahsoka behind with a confused look.

“Let him be, Ahsoka, he went through a lot,” Ronin smiled, and gestured to the insane amount of cargo on the ship. “I stole a lot, too.”

Kenobi grinned from the background, saying, “You bloody fool, you’re brilliant.”

She shrugged, grinning. “We still need some stuff, but this should do for a while.”

Kenobi only shook his head, sighing, but he turned to his ship, checking for damage. Silence followed as he turned to her, his voice deadly and low. “You scratched my ship. There are blaster marks all over it!”

“Well, what did you expect? I was on a sand bowl and I stole from the _Hutts._ ” She patted his shoulder. “Be glad we didn’t die, yeah? Then what would you do?”

Kenobi clenched his fists as she walked away, but shook his head, releasing the tension. “I would maintain much more of my sanity, thank you very much,” he growled at her, and she smirked over her shoulder.

“We can’t have that, now can we?” She shouted back, and he rolled his eyes, staring at the food and supplies. _That’s enough for a month, at least._

Mariana was going to be the death of him.

~*~*~

 “I’m sorry, Anakin,” Ronin was saying in the hallway as Ahsoka walked by later that day, her eyes tired and the Jedi only patting her on the shoulder. “I should have told you.”

“It’s alright, Ronin. I don’t blame you. I just need my training gear,” he smiled to her, and Ahsoka paused.

“Who are you training with?” she asked him. “We’re off for the afternoon, remember?”

“I asked Kenobi after lunch if we could spar,” Anakin smiled. “He’s starting to grow on me.”

Ronin smiled, but Ahsoka wasn’t sure if the girl was pleased or terrified. “That’s good, Anakin. He’ll teach you a lot.”

“I’m really learning a lot,” Anakin smiled. “He’s…. different than I expected.”

Ronin let Anakin by, grabbing Ahsoka at the wrist. “How bad was his migraine? What actually happened in that room?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka murmured back. “He asked me to leave the room. Wasn’t much I could do, really, after he blocked me out. I figured whatever was said he wanted to remain between the two of them.”

Ronin nodded, golden eyes averted. “I have been neglecting my duties to you, Ahsoka, as my apprentice. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Ahsoka looked at Kenobi coming down the hall, in a black shirt and loose trousers, smiling gently at the two of them. “I think it’s time for me to start looking on my own, Ronin. What you have and what I have are two different things, but I appreciate the abilities you’ve taught me.”

“Leaving your master, Ahsoka?” Kenobi winked as he stood by them.

“It was never formal anyway,” Ronin smiled gently. “When I came here, I was convinced I would meet more hostility. Yet, you’ve grown, Kenobi. You’ve changed. Why?”

Kenobi smiled, looking away from her. “Guilt, love, call it what you will. I’ve changed. For now, that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t be complaining.”

“I’m not. Anakin has changed, too. What did you do to him?” Ronin playfully teased.

“Nothing,” Anakin grinned from behind her. “It was knowledge that changed me, not anything he did.”

Ronin nodded, her eyes watching the two of them. _Someone is lying,_ she murmured to herself, and she felt Ahsoka’s confusion.

_What’s going on?_ She asked Ronin.

She didn’t reply right away, listening to the heartbeats of the two others in the room. _Kenobi loves him,_ she whispered to Ahsoka. _And Anakin respects him. At least that is something going for them._

_All part of the plan?_ She asked Ronin as the former Jedi closed the door to her room, returning to her desk to continue writing.

_Yes,_ Ronin murmured. _All part of the plan._

Ronin dipped the quill in an inkwell in her wooden desk. It had been forever since she wrote in this book, one that marked the centuries of knowledge that she’d amassed. She was certain in her strokes, in the rasp of the tip on the paper.

She let the ink dry for a moment, and then flipped to the front of the book. If there was something written there, it didn’t matter. In the top left corner, next to the spine, she wrote, _To Ahsoka. Use this information wisely; if it is needed by the Jedi, inform them. If the Sith, give them a copy to study. Educate the masses. This is the history of the Sith, of the Jedi, of the galaxy as I learned in my studies. All the books in my library are yours… Consider this my will. May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano._

She closed the book. Nothing more she could write; the rest was left to Ahsoka and the Chosen One, Anakin. _Bring the galaxy peace, for your sake,_ she murmured, almost _prayed_ to herself.

The Clone Wars had started ten years ago. But this war, it was different. This war would determine the past, present, and future of the galaxy. This war could tear the world they knew apart, or leave it unchanged. Ronin didn’t know which was more terrifying.

She left the room, wandering down the halls. She heard Ventress and Kenobi arguing, and fumbled for the door to what she assumed was the training hall.

“What’s the issue?” She asked softly.

“We don’t want to pit Ahsoka against Anakin in training again,” Kenobi automatically replied. “And both of us want to coach the other.”

“I’ll fight,” Ronin murmured.

Ventress snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re blind!”

“I held my own against Kenobi pretty well, I don’t know,” she shrugged. “If I can live through that I’m pretty sure I can fight against Anakin and Ahsoka.”

“She’s got a point,” Anakin mused.

Ventress scoffed. “Fine. Catch,” she snarled, and Ronin’s hand shot out into the air, seemingly of its own accord, fingers closing around a cylinder. _A saber._ She ran her hands over it, memorizing every detail, and then switched it on. “It’s your old sabers, the ones you left here,” Ventress informed her.

“Kenobi’s and mine,” she whispered, and her hands instinctually uncoupled the blades. “They are not to be a staff. Kenobi’s I altered for an off-hand weapon. Mine is a lead-hand weapon. Understand their purpose, Ventress, lest you fail in your own duels.” The Nightsister scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Who’s first?”

“Well, you did say Anakin _and_ Ahsoka,” Kenobi smirked.

_Oh, stars._ Ronin tossed her lead grip up in the air, grabbing it in a reverse grip and settling in a rested stance. _I did say that, didn’t I?_

She felt Anakin and Ahsoka circling her, eyes focused on nothing and everything, like they always were. Kenobi noted she seemed more withdrawn, as if listening intently to something inside of her. _Instinct,_ he recalled. The Sith turned his attention back to Anakin, the tip of his blade nearly dusting the floor and left scorch marks on the floor where the heat was hot enough.

Ahsoka struck first, her blades twirling in the air as they came down upon Ronin, the girl dodging the blow and ducking under Anakin’s swing, the scent of ozone informing her how close she had come to losing her nose. She settled into a modified Soresu, her feet silent on the floor.

Kenobi hummed his surprise at her technique, knowing that her ingenuity was always greater than his. Of _course_ she would modify a traditional form to fit her body and kinesiology. If she wasn’t a natural at it already, he would be surprised. Ventress looked on with her normal angry stoicism, her eyes narrowed at watching, observing, memorizing every detail of the trio’s movements.

Ahsoka only grinned at her former Master, Anakin nodding in response. Together, they jumped forward, Ronin leaping over them in an elegant evasion, sweeping Anakin upon her landing and pinning Ahsoka under him, the two Jedi in a confused heap on the floor, sabers scattered about the room.

“Wait, what?” Anakin asked, and Kenobi laughed, Ronin standing and clipping her sabers onto her belt.

“If those sabers had been set to their full capacity, you both would be dead,” Ventress stated bluntly, disappointment clear in her voice. “I had so much hope in you, Ahsoka.”

“ _E chu ta_ ,” she snarled in response. Anakin howled with laughter, rolling off the girl in his mirth. A small smile graced Ventress’s lips, and the group grinned at each other, letting the tension slide away. _Home,_ Kenobi and Anakin thought, simultaneously—but unbeknownst to the other.

Later that night, Kenobi and Ronin sat at the kitchen table alone, the only two still eating. It was an uncomfortable silence, unfortunately, and the tension bled into the air like a toxin.

Finally, Kenobi said, “What is your plan, Mari?”

The girl jumped, dropping her fork. “What?”

“Your plan. For taking down Sidious,” he elaborated. “That’s why you brought Anakin here, right?”

Her mind went carefully blank, and he narrowed his eyes. _She’s hiding something._

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I haven’t figured it out yet. It won’t end well for me, no matter what I do.”

Kenobi somehow doubted that. Her performance in the hall earlier was clear she understood otherwise, her mind lost beyond the complexity of her adventures and what she attempted to do.

“He doesn’t remember, does he?” Kenobi finally asked.

Ronin paused. “What do you mean?” Confusion lanced her tone, and with a pointed look that even she could feel, she deflated a little. “Oh.” She had spent enough time in his mind, tearing it apart looking for her answers, to know what he was talking about. “No, I—I don’t think so.”

Kenobi sighed, looking defeated. “Everything we had built, all the memories, the safety we had at the Temple—?”

“Gone. Likely removed, or repressed. Like the Temple did to me after you left,” she murmured. “Though, it was to repress my attachment to you and Anakin. Obviously that did me good, because I went and tracked you down and I’ve been saving Shithead’s ass for the last ten years. I wouldn’t be surprised if they put him on the Council to keep an eye on him.”

“He has a seat on the Council?” Kenobi asked, confused.

“Yes.  He still has to take calls every once in a while for official business. They think he’s out tracking down Grievous when he’s really here, and Rex is saving his ass. Always making excuses for him in briefings and fills Anakin in when he can, bridging the gap for any potential questioning by the Council to verify. He’s also bouncing the signal almost all over, so they can’t track it. A good slicer like Ahsoka could, but she won’t. No need to.”

“How long until they figure it out?” Kenobi asked her.

She shrugged. “They probably already have, just won’t do anything about it.”

He hummed in response, standing and moving to clear the table. “You’re something else, Ronin.”

A smile graced her tired face. “Yes, well, that _is_ why you took me as your Padawan.”

He grinned at her, but it was superficial. She couldn’t see him anyway, and she knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t much more than amused. Ronin was still picking at her food, the meat now cold and her wine warm, but he didn’t touch her plate. He knew better than to think that she was done. She brought her plate out ten minutes later, when Kenobi was scrubbing dishes, clear of food. Whether she’d eaten it or not was a question that he wouldn’t ask, but she’d eaten something.

“I still love you, you know,” she murmured.

“I know,” he replied gently. “But you understand—”

“Of course I do, Kenobi. It’s him. There was Satine, there was me, there were others—but it’s always been him. The Jedi believe that the student chooses the Master, and he chose you, when he was testing in front of the Council. He was _scared,_ lost, alone. I remember that battle on Naboo as much as you do, Kenobi.”

“How did you—”

She silenced his surprise with a gentle finger against his lips, and she smiled gently, the hand moving to caress his stubbly cheek. “I knew you were there. I was too angry to care, and, let’s be honest, I thought you were dead. I thought you’d somehow managed to find peace in the Force, to haunt me, to spite me. Qui-Gon lived, you know. He survived his wounds.”

“But even Anakin believes he was killed. How are you so sure that he lived?” Kenobi asked tightly, pulling her hand away from his face.

“I wasn’t, not at first. There were rumors, rumors of a new Gray Jedi Order rising out of the shadows. You and I both know the Gray were never killed, never destroyed. They evolved, like the Sith. The Jedi are stagnant, clinging to old, outdated traditions…. It makes them weak. Qui-Gon knew this. He _actually_ left the Order. I found him, on some backwater planet working for the Gray. He saw me, he saw I’d become Sith. He also saw that I was no longer Sith, that I had grown. I told him you were alive, Kenobi, I told Jinn you were alive and I’d never seen the man so _devastated._ Because, if you were alive,” she rambled, tears rolling down her face at the memory as it flashed before her, “it meant you were Sith too, and I think that’s what broke him. He told me to tell you that he never stopped being proud of you, that he never loved another student more.”

Tears rolled down Kenobi’s face, shock permeating the air. “He’s—He’s alive?” the ginger murmured.

Ronin carded her fingers through his hair. “No. He died three days later in a bombing led by the Seperatists.”

Kenobi felt his heart break all over again, leaning on the counters of the kitchen with an iron grip, his knuckles white, but he slid down the cabinets, tucking his knees to his chest. “How do I know you’re not lying?” he grunted out, his voice strangled with grief.

Ronin looked down at him with pity, with sorrow, and with such _grace._ Grace he envied, grace she claimed he somehow taught her. In that grace, he saw more than Darth Revis. She knew he was more than that. She saw him as her hero, as her lover, as someone she’d learned over and over and over again that was safe to love. He wondered what he’d done to change her hate to love, her distrust to faith.

Had she changed that much? Had he? Or had they both?

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you about Qui-Gon. I can’t do that to you. I could _never_ do that to you.” She squatted down, her hand reaching for his. He allowed her to take it, her gentle touch soothing. His gold eyes, watery and pained, met hers, the silvery remnants of what he’d done flecked with the natural gold. Her white roots were starting to show again, the black dye long since faded.

“I miss your white hair,” he murmured suddenly. “I miss when this was all easier, when it was you and me against the world. I miss Sith hunting with you and Quinlan, I miss my life at the Temple. I miss being _something_ greater than myself.”

“I miss seeing you brave and courageous, I miss seeing you oozing confidence. But the past ten years has rattled us to our core, Kenobi. We are no longer Sith, but something else, something dark and twisted but broken and fragile, lost in the history of what we once were and who we wish to be….” Her voice trailed off. “We are not alone.”

Kenobi looked up to see Anakin standing in paled shock, wiping tears from his face. “Hey, Skywalker.”

“How much did you hear?” Ronin quietly asked.

“All of it,” he murmured. “I heard everything.” He squatted in front of Kenobi, dropping to his knees. The Sith regarded him with a newfound awe, and the Jedi glanced to Ronin. “Can you leave us alone?”

“Kenobi?” She asked, and he squeezed her hand.

“I’m okay, Mariana. Go,” he murmured, and she stood, exiting the room with little further argument.

Kenobi turned his eyes to the Jedi, the electric blue eyes studying him with an intensity. “So she told you about my being on the Council.”

“Yes,” Kenobi breathed, trying to hide his accelerating heart rate. The Jedi had _somehow_ managed to literally climb between the man’s legs, sitting on his heels, _staring_ at him. If he intended for the reaction he was getting, then the man was a genius.

“You’re not mad?” Anakin queried gently.

“No. I’m proud of you,” he murmured, and Anakin smiled gently. It wasn’t a smirk, not the grin of elation from training, but a dorky, relaxed smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes almost _memorizing_ the man’s face.

Kenobi leaned forward a bit, into the touch of the Jedi as he wiped tears from his cheeks. “You’re teasing me,” he growled, the pain turning to possession in the golden eyes.

A smirk. “Good,” the Jedi stated, and the Sith lurched forward, his hand finding his way around the back of Anakin’s neck and pulling him to a gentle kiss, the two relaxing into each other.

But it became a bit more than that, the men tangled in each other’s embrace, lost in the moment. Kenobi pulled away, needing to breathe air that wasn’t already in Anakin’s lungs. A string of saliva connected them, Kenobi grinning up at the lust-filled eyes of Anakin.

“Well, that was something,” Kenobi grinned, and Anakin rolled his eyes, a smirk upon them. It was the smirk of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what kind of things he would do to obtain it, of a man who wouldn’t be stopped by any means. Kenobi appreciated that from him, in a way. A sly smile made it onto the Sith’s face, the look of love and awe shifting to a look of lust and possession.

But it didn’t take a genius to tell that Anakin was unsure of himself and of the task they were about to do. Before Kenobi could ask, the Jedi snarled out a, “Fuck it,” and slammed his lips against the ginger’s, bare torso brushing Kenobi’s as the man went up on his knees for leverage.

Kenobi threw himself as willingly into it, as passionately as his Jedi lover.

Without warning, the Jedi broke himself away, eyes wide. He scrambled away, chest heaving and panic on his face. Kenobi looked after him in confusion, the Jedi knotting his hands into his hair and shaking like a leaf. The Sith knew better than to approach him, but he said, “Anakin?”

“I have to go,” he growled, and darted away from the kitchen and down the hall, likely towards his shared room with Ronin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go yell at me on tumblr. find me at stxnesandshadxws!  
> also, i'm going to tell you right now: I'm not sorry. AT ALL.


	5. { f i v e }

_“Anakin, you fool, you fool, you fool,” he howled at himself in Huttese as he ran down the halls,_ his feet carrying him farther away from Kenobi. He reached a metal door, the iron gates sealing him away from whatever lay on the other side, but Kenobi’s insistent calling from the down the hallways were growing closer by the second.

With a desperate shove of the Force, the doors opened, darkness swirling out and whispering secrets into his ear, gently sucking him inside. His panic was replaced with curiosity, and he couldn’t hear Kenobi shouting _“No!”_ at him as he wandered in.

Kenobi ran to the door the second it closed, but he knew damn well he wasn’t strong enough to open it. Like every other Sith door he’d built, only someone stronger than what was inside could open it without the permission of the person inside. It was obvious Anakin wanted nothing to do with him, but if more than one person attempted….

He darted back down the halls, his chest heaving as he skidded into Ronin’s room. Sleepily, she lifted her head, muttering, “What the fuck, Kenobi?”

“Anakin found the room,” he rushed out, followed by a string of curses in Sith.

“Which one?” She instantly demanded, sitting up immediately.

“You already know the answer to that question, Mariana,” Kenobi snapped, and she nodded, leaping to her feet and rushing down the hall after him, almost crashing into him when he’d stopped without her realizing.

“I forgot how close I was to this room,” she murmured. “I did that intentionally, didn’t I?”

“You liked being close to things that could kill you,” Kenobi admonished, reaching out with his hand. “Help me get this door open. I don’t want Anakin to be in there any longer.”

She nodded and raised her hand, the other resting on his shoulder as they lowered their own shields to merge completely with each other. _For Anakin,_ they both murmured, almost with one voice.

Inside, Anakin walked about the room, almost in a haze induced by overexposure to the Force. His fingers trailed over the various objects in the room, darkened by blood and centuries of use, slowly spiraling his way to the center where the altar sat. Ancient Sith writing was engraved in the face, and for some reason, Anakin knew what it said, like it was engraved into his soul and branded on his skin as well. _For the World of Old._

He saw the obsidian knife, the cut and polished stone shining in the dim light, and he lifted it by the ivory handle, marveling at the beauty.

_You know what to do,_ a hazy, hoarse voice murmured across from him, and when he looked up, his eyes met the black orbs of a ghost, her smile wicked as she gestured to the mirror that lay in shattered, broken pieces alongside the altar. _You look powerful, child,_ she murmured cheerfully. _Look. Realize what you’ve become, and **relish** in your power._

And so he did, moving slowly, his feet shuffling along the volcanic floor. He glanced in the tarnished, dusty, shattered frame, golden eyes staring back at him. A small smile graced his face, looking back to the woman in wisps of gray and white. _I am proud, child. Now, make your allegiance clear,_ she murmured, gesturing a hand back to the altar.

_Allegiance,_ Anakin murmured, staring at the altar. Just as he was about to move, the doors boomed open, Kenobi and Ronin rushing in past the wards towards the confused Anakin.

_“You stay away,”_ Anakin hissed, pointing a finger at Kenobi. Instantly, the Sith stopped, and Mariana paused, her step faltering.

“Kenobi,” she warned, hands out in front of her. “I need you to guide me!”

“I can’t come any closer, Mariana,” Kenobi brokenly whispered. “He’ll kill you otherwise.”

Mariana paused, cautiously switching into Mando’a. “What are we dealing with?”

“He’s got the knife, Traya’s with him.”

Ronin groaned, and then dropped her hands. “Traya!”

_What do you want, child? You left me! Left the Sith!_

“ ‘There must always be two, one to embody power, and the other to crave it,’ ” she snarled, and then shoved her hands out towards Traya, murmuring in Sith as Traya hissed.

_You insolent child! After everything I taught you, after all you gave for me—this is how you thank me?_ Traya snarled, and Ronin smirked, her usually silvery gold eyes blazing a feral golden red under the scars. Slowly, Anakin was pulling out of it, focusing on Kenobi’s pain and Ronin’s anger. He fought for every ounce of his control, slowly gaining it back with Ronin’s help as Kenobi looked on helplessly.

“Do you remember what you told me, Kreia?” Ronin murmured, the smirk on her face as she slowly overwhelmed the tired, old, weak spirit of Darth Traya.

_Remind me, child,_ the Sith hissed back, eyes full of righteous fury.

_“There will always be a Darth Traya, one who holds the knowledge of betrayal in their heart; one who has been betrayed in their heart, and will betray in turn,”_ Ronin snarled, and with one last shove with the Force, in its pure, unedited form, she sent the Sith spirit scattering.

Anakin came to once she left, Ronin rushing to his side while Kenobi stayed behind. “Anakin, are you okay?” Her unfocused eyes had returned to normal, her hand gently touching his face. The Jedi stared at the obsidian knife in his hand, turning it over in his palm and offering the hilt to Kenobi.

“I believe this is yours,” he quietly whispered, and then pushed away from them, leaving the two Sith in the shadows of a decimated Temple, both equally heartbroken for different reasons.

“This is all my fault,” Kenobi murmured, holding the knife in his hand. “All of this. We started this, we brought it back. No, no, I did, I brought this back, I dragged you into it—”

“Kenobi, calm down,” Ronin said gently, and took the knife from him. “We’ll figure this out.” Her eyebrows furrowed, and then she said gently, “Did you cut yourself already?”

“No, why?” he asked, and when the former Sith pulled her hand away from the blade, the pale skin there shone a dark red, even in the dim light.

“We were too late,” she murmured softly, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “We were too late.”

Kenobi looked at her hand in utter defeat, his golden eyes burnt out of the life that had once been there. “It’s not over, Mariana. We’ll figure it out. We always will.”

But as Anakin walked away, fresh blood dripping down his left hand onto the threadbare carpets, he could feel the darkness swirl around him. The Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear, a Jedi Knight, knew in his soul that this was the start of an irreversible change—and the galaxy would change around him. Anakin Skywalker had never been more terrified in his life, and the Dark of the Force drank it all in, the ghosts and memories of Sith from before the Dark War, thousands of years ago, relished as the tables finally began turning in their favor.

~*~*~

_Anakin woke up the later that week, alone, on the floor of Ronin’s room, staring at a very_ particular crack in the wall, debating if his life was really worth living at that point. He’d been actively avoiding Kenobi since that _episode_ on the floor of the kitchen, including skipping training. When asked why by Ahsoka and Ronin, he only shrugged and said he felt ill.

He didn’t know how much longer he could cage himself in this prison before he snapped.

Groaning, he sat up, stretching out his back before standing up and heading over to the ‘fresher.

He still wasn't over the fact that there was an actual mirror. Not that burnished metal that passed for mirrors on Republic battle ships; no, this was a real, bona fide mirror. _Day three,_ he reminded himself. _Day three of avoiding Kenobi._

If only he could stand his reflection enough to marvel at the item.

He shook his head of the subconscious thought, pulling one of his tunics off the line in the 'fresher’s closet. Anakin’d hung them up there when Ronin revealed they’d be staying for an extended period of time, washed and threadbare. Pulling the navy tunic over his head, he allowed his mind to explore the rest of the compound for the first time in a while. The presences of Ronin, Ahsoka, and Ventress were missing, and Kenobi’s was a dulled swirling mass of red and white, somewhere on the other side of the compound.

Determining he looked semi-presentable, he stalked down corridors looking for the kitchen. It was there he found Kenobi, and he found himself almost immediately turning around and heading back the way he came.

“Anakin,” Kenobi called from the kitchen, “I can have the cooking droid make you some food too, if you’d like.”

Anakin cursed his growling stomach.

“As long as it's not a ration bar,” Anakin joked, standing at the doorway and making an effort _not_ to fight the man standing at the other side of the room. Though, in Kenobi’s defense, it wasn’t the Sith that had done something to him to make him feel this way. It was just, simply, Anakin’s reaction to him making out and potentially sleeping with a Sith that somehow had more allure than any woman he was ever with. Also, yeah, there was the Temple room. He elected to ignore that.

After Kenobi chirped an order to the cooking droid, he made no effort to cross the room. Anakin was thankful for that, at least; he wouldn't have to physically hold himself back from killing the man, or himself. The very feeling of being in the same room with the man was more than Anakin could take; it felt _right,_ like every aspect of the man. He’d fit perfectly against him, the feeling of their lips connecting like puzzle pieces or parts _made_ to go together. He had felt safe in that moment, as if everything they had done they’d done hundreds of times before, as if it were a practiced effort by the duo. But Kenobi had left the Order when Anakin was eight; Ronin when he was ten. There would be no reason for these emotions, not if his past was how he remembered it.

Maybe it wasn’t.

It was a tense silence, Anakin fidgeting with a bolt in his hands before he dared speak. “So where are the girls?”

“They're out getting supplies. I was going to send Ronin and Ventress, and then I realized they'd be more likely to kill each other; Ahsoka volunteered to go to keep the peace.” Kenobi shrugged. “They should be back in a day or so.”

Anakin nodded, letting the silence take over. A moment later, he felt Kenobi’s gold gaze on him, and he looked up. “What?”

“That scar,” the ginger said. “Where did you get it?”

Anakin’s gloved fingers went to palm at the pale scar above his head, then shrugged. “Ventress.”

Kenobi nodded in understanding. “Yes, she can be a handful.” He stretched, and Anakin heard his back pop from across the room. Kenobi’s face relaxed in relief, and then said, “By all the Corellian hells, I couldn't tell you how long I've been trying to get that to pop.”

Anakin laughed gently, and didn't chide himself for it. A joke was a joke, no matter who it came from. The cooking droid set out two plates, full of steaming food, and Anakin dug in faster than Kenobi could will himself to move.

“Good food?” The ginger asked.

“Better than the field,” Anakin replied.

The silence took over for the third time, and the two men ate in silence. Anakin finished long before Kenobi, allowing the droid to whisk away his plate. When Kenobi finished, he asked, “Can I ask you something personal?”

“No promises I'll answer,” Anakin replied warily.

“Why do you trust Mariana?”

Anakin paused, then sighed. “She has saved my life, many times. At that point I would trust anyone with my life.”

“Intriguing. Why do you think she did so?” Kenobi asked, and Anakin smirked, pushing himself off the wall where he'd been perched.

“You want to play mind games, Sith?” Anakin asked him, tone pointed and guarded. “Find another person to psychoanalyze.”

Anakin left the room, wandering the rest of the compound. He found multiple other rooms, some unused, others occupied with items and materials. Red rugs covered most of the halls, clean and crisp, though some of the halls looked like no one had walked through them in years. This was where the Dark Side seemed strongest in the compound, in the deserted hallways. It swirled around him, haunting him, causing the wound – now a mere scratch – on the forearm of the Jedi to throb. It whispered in his ear, even as he walked past the iron doors of the since destroyed Temple. Ronin had told him that at some point after he’d walked out, he had come back in a haze, destroying everything in there and came back, none the wiser. It was a foreign story to him, as if it were another person that had done it. But he knew better.

He found himself staring out over the lava of Mustafar, watching the fiery river below him pulsate and glow. He briefly wondered what it would feel like if he were to jump in, but discarded the thought from his mind.

Kenobi found him again, but didn't say anything to him.

“Kenobi,” Anakin asked, blue eyes gold and red from the pulsing fires below him, “what color were your eyes before?”

When the man didn't reply right away, Anakin looked over to see him staring at him, eyes broken and sad. “Blue,” he whispered. “They were blue.”

*~*~*

_“Mariana, if you buy one more Force-forsaken item, I will personally gut you like a fish,”_ Ventress growled, and Ronin rolled her eyes, scoffing but not replying. Ahsoka was one-hundred-percent regretting agreeing to this.

_“Go ahead,” he said, “it’ll be fun!” he said,_ she grunted to herself, doing her best _not_ to slam her fist into both Ronin’s and Ventress’s faces.

They walked down the streets of the marketplace of some planet Ahsoka didn't care to remember the name of, Ronin and Ventress bickering all the way. It had been like that the entire flight, the two incapable of getting along outside the premise of training, where they were allowed to bash each other’s heads in and call it learning.

The Togruta stopped, picking up some clothes for both herself and Anakin; neither of the other two noticed her short disappearance. She followed behind their black-cloaked figures, in reds, glaring at anyone who came near her.

The past twelve hours had been just them bickering, switching between about four different languages to insult each other. In all honesty, the Jedi had enough.

“Quit it, you two,” Ahsoka growled.

“Or what, you'll tell your buddy Anakin?” Ventress taunted, and the look Ahsoka gave her was cold enough to freeze the entire planet of Mustafar.

“I'll string you up by your toes and slowly dip you into the rivers of Mustafar, leaving you to suffer for days as the lava burns off your skin,” Ahsoka snarled back, and Ronin's eyebrows shot up, a low whistle peeling out of her throat.

“Gotcha,” Ronin nervously laughed, and the two of them walked in silence.

“Guys,” Ahsoka called to them, paling.

“What is it?” Ventress groaned, and when Ronin turned, Ahsoka could tell she felt it too.

“Ahsoka, get back to the ship. Ventress, go with her,” Ronin ordered, pulling out her sabers and igniting them.

“I'm not leaving you,” Ahsoka snarled.

“Then be foolish; I won't leave without you,” Ventress snapped, taking the items Ahsoka had and running back towards the ship.

Ahsoka took up a position beside Ronin, waiting.

Down the road came a battalion of droids, spearheaded by an all too familiar face for Ronin and Ahsoka.

“Hello, dearest,” Dooku smiled. “How ironic we meet here.”

“Not now, Dooku. I'm sure you'd like your supplies to get back to Mustafar,” Ronin snarled.

“Oh, come back home have you?” Dooku waved it off. “No matter. I'm sure Lord Revis would be all the better without you and your pesky Jedi.”

“I'm no Jedi,” Ahsoka growled at him, her sabers at the ready as she snarled.

Dooku started at the two of them, and then understanding clouded his face. “Well done, Mariana, indeed. Such a shame I have to kill you.”

The first few seconds, it was simply waiting for the civilians to clear out or pull out something to record. Ahsoka waited, the B2 battle droids already getting antsy. _Kriffing clankers,_ she muttered to herself, loathing already filling her. There were what, fifty of them? A hundred? It was hardly a full batallion, that was for sure, and she could certainly take that on herself. Beside her, Ronin balked, her hands firm on her ignited sabers. These were Maul’s, though one blade had turned a brilliant emerald green, contrasting the blood red of its companion. Ahsoka briefly wondered when she’d become enough of a Jedi to bring the crystals back from bleeding.

She didn’t have to wonder much longer, because the call to fire was given.

It was a blur after that. Ahsoka took care of the droids, but Ronin was left to deal with Dooku.

At one point, Ahsoka couldn't remember when, she had turned to help Ronin, only to have been knocked down by a blaster bolt, the world fading in and out; she glanced down at her right shoulder, blood coming away on her hand. A blaster had done this? What kind of blaster? A droid lay under her, already destroyed; it didn't matter, because Ronin finished off the last one, sensing Ahsoka's pain.

“What do you want from me?” She asked Dooku brokenly, and he laughed maniacally, crossing his saber with hers.

“ _Your life,”_ he snarled, and the two were whirled away in a streak of blood red and green.

 

Ahsoka woke up on the ship, sore and bleeding still, but tended to. Ronin lay beside her, unconscious, barely breathing. Ventress stood over her, looking conflicted.

“What happened?” Ahsoka warily asked, gently sitting up.

“She was a fool,” Ventress growled. “I've done all I can for her, but she’ll have to pull through the rest on her own. There are still supplies we have to get, but after the stunt you two pulled, I had to relocate us.”

Ahsoka nodded in understanding. “How far out of the way?”

“We’re still in the same system, if that's what you're worried about. Now that you're awake, I'll go fetch the last of the things. Try not to let her die. Skywalker will most likely kill me.”

Ahsoka chuckled, but Ventress wasn't around to hear it. She sat up over her friend, diving deep into her mind.

_Ronin.... Where are you?_ Ahsoka called, and a faint reply came.

_I'm alive. Barely._

_Oh, good. What happened?_

Ronin struggled to find the words, but finally said, _Dooku got the best of me. Do I still have my limbs?_

Ahsoka chuckled. _Anakin is still the only one with a need for a prosthetic._

_Oh thank the stars. I'm already blind, I don't need any more handicaps,_ she joked, but Ahsoka felt her strength fading. _I have to rest now, Snips, but do not worry; I will not die just yet._

Ahsoka smiled, pressing a lazy kiss to Ronin’s bloody forehead, and grabbed a washcloth, slowly wiping the blood from her limbs.

The washcloth ran red by the time Ahsoka was done, but it was a meticulous process, allowing the Jedi to restore focus. _What now?_ She asked herself.

A few hours later Ventress came back with the last of the supplies and they flew off, heading back for Mustafar.

Ahsoka could only hope Anakin and Kenobi hadn't killed each other.

*~*~*

“And then, it was just a bunch of _fucking kids!”_ Anakin drunkenly howled, an equally plastered Kenobi laughing at the most ridiculous story he’d ever heard. Or it was just the alcohol talking. Whatever.

“You know, Kenobi,” Anakin began, regaining some composure, “you're not so bad.”

“Yes, well, you're not as annoying either,” Kenobi smiled, chugging the last bit of his drink and setting it on the counter.

Anakin was trying to remember why he agreed to drinking with the Sith. It was a pressing matter, but he swore that there was some sort of bet made.... Whatever. He couldn't be bothered with it now, not in this state. He also couldn’t

Kenobi stood, gathering himself as Anakin stood too, wobbling towards the ginger. He stumbled drunkenly into Kenobi's arms, leaning heavily on him.

“You're pretty okay, actually,” Anakin smiled again, playing with the mess that was Kenobi’s hair. Anakin didn't exactly know what he meant by his own statement, but whatever. Maybe it was just reassuring himself that hating himself after _loving_ Kenobi was going to get him nowhere.

Kenobi’s face lit up, and he laughed too. “You're pretty okay too, Anakin.”

Anakin finally regained his balance, and Kenobi let go of him, the Jedi taking a breath to stabilize himself. Internally, Anakin knew he shouldn't be drinking. But the bottle was so promising, and he was just the right amount of drunk to not care about the rest of the world and this mission and that strange feeling he had that something was wrong that he didn't want to stop. Plus, Kenobi was…. _Inticing._ He took another shot, and then asked, “What is that language you and Ronin talk in?” His words were slurred, his eyes unfocused.

“The language of the Sith, young one. Maybe I'll teach you one day,” Kenobi smiled, and Anakin swore something was behind that smile, something more promising than what he found in a bottle.

“I would like that,” Anakin replied, and Kenobi’s hand found his on the counter of the kitchen, gently squeezing.

“Would you?” Kenobi was dangerously close now, and Anakin never really noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how soft his hair was.

“Yes,” Anakin breathed, and it was all his willpower to not tangle his hands in Kenobi’s hair, to pull him closer--

He didn't have to, it turned out, because Kenobi had grabbed him by the hip and the neck, his lips soft yet insistent on Anakin’s and _stars_ was it good. Anakin found his hands around Kenobi’s shoulders, hesitantly kissing him back; deep down, he _knew_ he shouldn't be doing this, but he was so _warm,_ and he felt so _good...._

Who was he to tell him no?

Anakin’s sandy hair was pulled back by a hand knotted into the hair at the base of his skull, exposing his throat; the noises that left him as Kenobi mouthed at his neck should have left him red and embarrassed, but this was anything but.

_More,_ Anakin’s body sang, and the ginger’s wandering hands found their way up Anakin’s tunic, hoisting Anakin up onto the counter and loosening the top, exposing more of his neck and down across his torso, leaving spots of reddening bruises.

The man left a trail of marks along the curve of Anakin’s neck, scorching the skin and his nails digging half-moons of blood into the flesh of his hips. It was so perfect, so painful yet pleasurable that he never wanted it to end. However, _this place_ simply would not do.

“Wait,” Anakin coughed out. “Not here.”

“My room?” Kenobi suggested, eyes like golden fire, carnal lust and desire burning like a raging animal.  It was all Anakin could do to nod his assent, and with a feral smile, Kenobi helped him off the counter, holding him close as they made their way down the halls of the compound. The longer it took, the more impatient the duo got; tearing at clothes, whispering promises that could only be fulfilled as the night went on, and brief make out sessions in darkened corners along the way. Finally, they stood at Kenobi's door, Anakin already working on getting the man’s shirt off.

“Dammit, Anakin,” Kenobi hummed, the Jedi’s lips insistent along the column of his neck, “where's your Jedi patience?”

“Thrown in the lava,” Anakin snarkily replied, a chuckle leaving his throat as he closed in on a particularly soft bit of flesh.

Kenobi finally got the door open, only allowing Anakin enough time to get in the room before going back and shoving the Jedi against the door, lips bruising in his insistent touch. Anakin felt Kenobi’s hand fisting in his hair, controlling, demanding the darkest of promises.

A gasp left Anakin’s throat as the ginger nearly ripped off both of their tunics, eyes locked on Anakin's in an unbreakable stare, gold and blue dilated to simple rings of color.

“ _Mine,_ ” Kenobi grunted, and Anakin nodded along, not entirely sure if it was him, the lust, or the alcohol talking.

He didn't really care, either.

Every nerve was burning, alive, with every touch and caress of the two men. Alcohol was the only strong scent, laden on their mingled breath. At some point, Anakin shoved himself into the heated embrace of Kenobi, the man’s hands pushing at the loosened drawstrings of Anakin’s pants.

It was a sloppy, jumbled attempt on Anakin’s part; in his attempt to shove Kenobi on the bed, the man tripping him instead and smirking down at Anakin who shoved his sandy hair out of his eyes in frustration.

Kenobi crawled onto the bed, straddling Anakin’s hips and tracing the edges of the scars left by him, still pink and raised. Murmured words of apology left his throat but Anakin didn't care, his hands busy memorizing the curves and cuts of his muscles, the passion broken by a moment of lucidity.

Anakin looked up from Kenobi’s chest, biting his lip. Those gold eyes, so full of lust and vulnerability, promised him everything if he only gave him one thing: himself.

“ _Yours_ ,” Anakin breathed, the single word like electricity on his tongue.

A smile, a true, genuine, relieved smile graced Kenobi’s face, relief written in his body.

Anakin didn't really remember much of anything after that.

*~*~*

“Oh my God,” a horrified, familiar voice exclaimed, and Anakin groaned.

“Shush, _please,_ ” he whined, and then attempted to sit up.

When he didn't move, he warily opened his eyes and saw the arm around his waist, keeping him firmly in place.

_Oh, stars,_ Anakin groaned at himself, and then flopped down incredulously, calling on the Force to rid himself of this ridiculous headache.

Kenobi woke up at the sudden movement, raising a sleepy eyebrow. “Anakin, do try to keep still. It is early morning.”

“Yeah, well,” Ahsoka’s voice snapped, “I need your help getting Ronin into the compound. Ventress and I can't move her ourselves.”

Anakin shot straight up, eyes wide. “Why? What happened?”

Upon seeing Ahsoka, he realized she was pretty worse for wear too. Several cuts covered her and her shoulder was wrapped in gauze, likely covering a wound smothered in bacta.

“Dooku happened. I'll wait outside for you two to get dressed; Ronin’s stable, but barely alive.” Ahsoka left the room, and Anakin leapt into action, scrambling to find his pants.

Once he did, he ran out of the room, rushing past Ahsoka in an attempt to get to his friend.

Snips followed close behind, almost tripping over Anakin’s heels as they ran.

He skidded out into the hangar bay, Ventress raising an eyebrow. “Why, Skywalker! What beautiful marks you've got there,” she taunted, and Anakin growled.

“Don't remind me,” he grunted, looking for Ronin.

_Anakin,_ Ronin’s voice smiled at him as he found her, laying on a medcot. _I see you're not dead._

_Right now, I'm glad you're not,_ he replied, gently scooping her up.

Ronin paused, sleepily nuzzling into Anakin’s neck. _You slept with Obi-Wan,_ she taunted, and Anakin groaned.

“By the _stars,_ guys! I was _drunk!”_ He groaned, carrying Ronin into the hangar bay.

Ventress looked tired, too. Ahsoka regarded her with a newfound respect, and he was impressed. As Kenobi walked up, fully clothed, Ventress patted him on the shoulder, saying something in the language of the Sith before beginning to walk away.

“Ventress,” Ahsoka called after her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for pulling us out of there,” she called.

Ventress snorted, but it was light-hearted. “Don't make me regret it.” The assassin vanished into the hallways of the compound, her black clothing cloaking her into the shadows.

Anakin watched her go, and avoided the guarded gaze of Kenobi. His mind filtered back to the hazy memories of the night before and his skin flushed, but pretended to play it off as emotion at Ronin’s state. “Help me get her to her room,” Anakin murmured, and Kenobi nodded, opening doors along the way.

Anakin set Ronin on her bed, brushing her hair out of her face. “Oh, Ronin,” he sighed. “Why did you have to fight?”

She, naturally, made no reply.

“Anakin, about last night--” Kenobi began, and the Jedi rolled his eyes.

“Don't,” Anakin snapped, not looking at him. “We were drunk. Don't think that it meant anything.” Anakin’s comm beeped, and he groaned, looking at the number. “I have to take this. Alone.”

Kenobi nodded, stalking out of the room and leaving Anakin to sit and take care of his friend; though, inside, he was pretty sure his heart shattered.

*~*~*

“So,” Ahsoka asked as she and Kenobi unloaded and sorted out the cargo the girls had picked up, “did you two really...?”

“You saw the marks on his neck, didn't you?” Kenobi grunted, smiling at her.

“Well... Yes. Stupid question, sorry,” Ahsoka murmured.

They worked in silence for a few more minutes, and as if he read her thoughts, he said, “Yes, Ahsoka. It was consensual.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed, brightening up.

“He may hate me now, but that's okay.” He leaned back, smiling. “It was worth it.”

Ahsoka uncomfortably scooted away, taking her books and datapads into her room and locking herself away.

Kenobi folded the rest of Anakin’s clothes that were scattered about his room, placed them in the heavy canvas bag with the rest of the clothes that Ahsoka bought for him, and placed him in front of the door to Ronin’s room. He knocked gently, and then left.

Kenobi ate that night alone at the large dining table, the table set for five but only one present. He meticulously picked apart his food, more playing with it than actually eating.

As he was washing dishes, Ventress stalked out of the corner of the room, leaning against the doorframe. “So.”

“So,” Kenobi replied.

“You picked Skywalker,” she observed. “Why?”

“You know why.”

She nodded, and then wrapped her arms around his waist, murmuring in his ear. “If he hurts you again, I will tear him limb from limb and feed him to the Sarlacc,” she hissed, and Kenobi laughed.

“Thank you, Asajj. It means a lot,” he smiled, and the woman smirked.

“As it should.” She leaned against the counter, picking at a plate of fruit.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going have to pry it out of Ronin when she wakes up?” Kenobi asked.

She sighed. “Mari sent me away before the fighting began, but when I got there, Dooku was leaving with the few droids that remained of his battalion, Ahsoka was unconscious but alive, and Ronin was barely breathing.” Ventress clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “I have no love for Mariana, not after what she did to you, but--”

“She is family. Yeah, I know,” Kenobi finished.

Ventress nodded, looking away to hide her emotion. “Maybe if I had stayed--”

“Don't. Don't think like that, darling. If you had stayed, the Count would have only done the same to you.” Kenobi had her by her shoulders, lifting her chin to look her in the eye. “I need you, Ventress, if this is to work.”

“You're already attached, Revis,” she murmured, shrugging off his hands and standing at the door. “What won't you do for him?”

With that, she left, and the ginger leaned against the counter, contemplating her words. He hated it when she was right.

*~*~*

_Quinlan Vos leaned up against the brick wall of a tavern somewhere on the planet of Lothal_ , lightsaber strapped to his hip and his best friend next to him. “You know, Avalon,” he said, smiling at her, “you'd make a _fine_ Jedi.”

The gray-haired teen only laughed, her own lightsaber strapped to her thigh. “Vos, you know as well as I that I am not fit for the.... _Calm_ life of a Jedi. No, I am very happy being neutral. And, it comes with some.... With some....”

Her voice trailed off as she watched a girl about her age cross her path, biting her lip and doing her best not to drool.

Quinlan laughed, agreeing with her fawning choice, and as the girl walked into the bar, he tapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “Follow me.”

The Gray did, only slightly more sober than Quinlan was, and sat down at the bar watching him closely.

Quinlan sauntered up to the girl, a brunette with wavy hair and a short dress, brilliant green eyes watching the man as he came up. “Hello, gorgeous,” she murmured, hanging off his arm the second he approached.

“Hello, beautiful,” he grinned back, and the chatter evolved to six or so girls around him, playing with his unkempt brown, dreadlocked hair or gently touching the tattoos across his face. To the original girl, who was by now drunker than him, he murmured, “See my friend at the bar? Gray hair, dressed in all black?”

The brunette followed his finger to Avalon, the girl smiling and drinking her scotch with a joke every now and then. The drunks at the bar laughed, but Quinlan knew she was in more control than he ever would be.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“You see, my friend over there just had a bad breakup. She's sad, and I brought her here to cheer her up. You think you can help me with that?” He suggested, the weight of the Force behind his words.

“Yeah, I can,” she cheerfully replied, sliding out of the booth to go join Avalon at the bar.

“Hear you’re lonely,” she murmured to Avalon, the girl’s stunning blue eyes moving to greet the green.

“Is that what Quinlan told you?” She grinned, tracing her finger under the brunette's chin. “Because _Quinlan_ is always right.”

“Yes he did,” she beamed, goosebumps erupting along the path the Gray’s manicured nail took.

Avalon leaned in, pressing a gentle, insisting kiss on the girl's lips, pulling away and whispering, “My name is Avalon.”

“Mariah,” the brunette whimpered in response, and Avalon flashed a wicked smile at Vos over the girl's shoulder.

Quinlan grinned back. _Hook, line, and sinker,_ he thought, watching as the empath worked her magic.

The first time he and Avalon had met, he recalled, it was in a situation much like this. She was at the bar, trying to root out information for her master, and he sauntered up, flirting the night away. Like him, she was a rare enigma; where he was able to tell the history of an object simply by touching it, the only thing Avalon needed to do was to touch someone for them to be absolute putty in her hands. He had made that mistake, and woke up in a bed full of women and men the next day with a hangover the size of a planet and Avalon sitting on the bed, still fucking the last girl awake before the poor thing passed out.

Needless to say, she got _all_ the information she needed and more that night.

He admired her calm coolness about her abilities, too. She wasn't in your face about them. She kept it on the down low, so quiet that only a handful of people knew about it. She was a _very_ good interrogator.

And, in his defense, she was _fucking gorgeous._

As the night wore on, Quinlan’s memory became more and more fuzzy and unclear. He did, however, wake up with two girls on either side of him, and a half-dressed Avalon standing over him, arms crossed. He saw her muscular abs, her feminine frame filled out with a masculine amount of muscle. Tattoos laced her bare skin, from the back of her neck all the way down across her torso and arms. He spotted a fresh one on her hip, and then groaned.

“What is it this time?” He groaned.

“I have a lead. Get dressed, let’s go,” she ordered, and he groaned again, hauling himself out of bed.

“One of these days I will bed you myself,” he growled. “All that pretty art waiting to be added to, courtesy of _me.”_

“Quinlan. We’ve been over this,” Avalon sighed, tugging on her black tunic and trousers, spinning her saber around for a quick set of forms before clipping it to the wide leather belt fastened at her waist.

“I know, I know, you’d rather die than sleep with a male,” he rolled his eyes. “But what if I had _information_ for your master?”

“Lors Tekka doesn't need anything from you, dipshit. And if I did,” she smiled, sauntering over to the Jedi and slipping her arms over his bare neck and at his trim waist, “ _I would just do this.”_

She pressed a series of gentle butterfly kisses down the column of his neck, hand sliding up into his hair and pulling, and then a sharp bite at the shoulder. He hissed, but not out of pain.

“You _fucking_ tease,” he snarled at her, and she winked at him as she patted him on the hip.

“Get dressed, Vos.”

He glared at her as she walked away, making sure the girls were properly wiped of both Avalon’s and Quinlan’s presence.

He remembered that shortly after he woke up the first night after he met her, he had to _plead_ with her to prove his worth-- and that the Jedi wouldn't tell his Council about her, or the Gray Jedi.

Since then, his year-long stay on Lothal has been.... Far more entertaining.

The Force buzzed around this girl, and the quiet confidence that seemed to pour out of every fiber of her being put him at a serious disadvantage if he were to ever fight her. She knew what she was capable of, and she was comfortable that she could, potentially, kill someone.

Quinlan didn't think she cared, either.

There were many things about this girl that stumped him. He couldn't quite tell if her affinity for women was a personal preference -- and if it was, he would respect that -- or if women were easier to worm out information. He doubted the latter, so he assumed it was the former.

_Respect sexuality it is,_ he nodded to himself, tugging his tunic over his head.

He found Avalon waiting in the hallway for him, finger combing the look of _I just had wild sex_ out of her hair. The mass of knotted waves became a tamed, beautiful mane of silvery gray, the human girl carefully arranging her hair to cover the scratch marks that had found their way over her shoulders and down her chest.

“So where are we going?” Quinlan finally asked, and she smirked.

“You won't like it,” she replied.

“Try me,” he growled, grabbing her hand. He didn't like it when she hid things from him.

“Fine, asshole.” She ripped her arm out from his grasp, his fingers losing traction on the soft fabric that covered her arms. “We’re going back to Coruscant, and I am to get an audience with your Council.”

“What? Why?” Quinlan demanded, immediately defensive of his family.

Avalon rolled her eyes. “Orders from my master. I am to inform the Jedi Council that the Gray will not further involve themselves with this _petty_ civil war, and that both the Gray and the Dark Jedi will be defending the neutral systems.”

“The Dark Jedi agreed to your treaty? Finally?” Quinlan asked.

“They grow tired of the petty fighting, yes. It's making it significantly harder for them to travel undetected through the trade routes, now heavily taxed, and the Gray feel the same way.” She paused, kicking a rock on the street with her boot before falling back into step beside Quinlan. “It will only last for as long as we have a common enemy.... Right now, for as long as the war lasts.” Quinlan nodded, and they boarded Avalon’s ship to take off. It had been freshly stocked, he discovered, and there was a liquor stash.

While Avalon argued with air control, he relaxed into the comfortable copilot chair and waited for the okay to take off.

When they did, Avalon was grumbling to herself in a language Vos couldn't understand. She looked visibly agitated, and he reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Hey. Ava. We'll figure this out,” he smiled at her. “The Jedi are reasonable.”

She only smiled, standing up. “I wish I saw the same way you do, Quinlan, but most of your brethren are not as kindly and annoying as you.”

She left him in the silence of space, and before he could ask, she had locked herself away, hidden from him in the Force.

He groaned, holding his face in his hands. At least he would get to see Aayla again.

*~*~*

_(this part is inspired by ashes of eden by breaking benjamin)_

_Ronin didn’t know what she expected from her comatose state._ It was as if she’d lost all cognitive function, cut off completely from the Force _._ It was black, first of all, which was a little disconcerting, but what was even more so, was the fact that once there was light, she could see in full capacity. Colors blossomed before her eyes, colors she hadn’t seen in a decade or more—she felt younger, too, than she had been when she’d fought Dooku. It seemed so long ago….

She flinched away from the light, covering her eyes, and then reached into her boot for a durasteel knife to cut a section of her thin tunic to filter the light. She tied it around her eyes, taking a breath and blinking out the pain. _I got this, I got this, I got this._ Once adjusted, she nodded, finding her way around.

Ronin was in one of the training rooms from the Temple, the training sabers stacked in neat rows along the walls, just like she remembered. She’d always enjoyed it in here, if not because she was training, but because there was always something to _do._

A saber ignited behind her, and when she turned, she saw Anakin, or at least she thought it was Anakin, eyes dark and clouded, face twisted with pain. _“Why did you leave me, Ronin?_ ” the Anakin hissed, and she reached for the saber clipped to her belt. It was Maul’s, she knew, but when she ignited the staff, she was shocked to see it in an emerald green and white.

_That’s new._ She turned her attention back to the red blade swinging at her, suppressing her panic. _He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real._

_“I am very real,”_ he hissed at her, and she snarled back, kicking him in the chest and sending him spiraling backwards. As they fought, the scene changed to the desert landscape of Tatooine, Ronin’s black clothes not suited for the weather but her strikes still matching Anakin’s, her speed and ability to where she’s wanted it for a while. Then her opponent changed to Maul, his face twisted in rage, tattoos stretching across his tormented red skin. _“That is my saber!”_ he howled at her, and she spun out of his attack.

It changed again, to her master, Obi-Wan, standing in front of her, his blue eyes pained and hurt. He was leaning over a holomap, in Jedi clothing, Echo beside him, and when he looked up, he murmured, _“I should have never left you behind.”_ His eyes bled to gold, and he drew his saber, launching over the table. _“I should have killed you when I had the chance!”_

She yelped, reaching out with her saber and slicing off his hand, the Sith howling in anger and pain. He got back up and called his saber into his left hand, and on instinct, she switched her lead hand as well. “You should have killed me,” she nodded in agreement. “You would have saved yourself a lot of pain! Me, Satine, Anakin-- none of it would have happened if you had just _killed me_!”

With a howl of rage, he shoved her back against another table, the already-wounded Jedi sliding down the face of it with a grunt of pain. Her vision blurred and she took off the blindfold; color was already starting to fade.

_“What are you afraid of?”_ He asked her, squatting down in front of her.

She looked up at him and spit in his face.

He wiped it away, and then repeated, _“What are you afraid of?”_

Ronin closed her eyes, letting memories of him bleed through the barrier she’d tried so hard to keep up. All the times they loved, all the times they fought, killed, _bled_ for each other, all of it washed away in hate and pain and murder. She thought of Anakin, of the pain she just watched Avalon go through from losing her master; and then she looked the false Kenobi in the eye, and said, “I no longer fear anything.”

A smirk graced his face, and he leaned in for a kiss, one that she was _far_ too willing to give up. But she felt his pain again, and his love for Anakin. _Let go of it,_ she heard a voice say, and as he pulled away from her, she did.

At the same time, she heard his voice gently singing to her, saying, _stay with me, don’t let me go....._

But she didn’t hear him. She _couldn’t_ hear him. So much pain had come her way, so much in the way of who she was and who she will be. It was time to move on. He faded from her as fast has he had come, taking her emotions with him. Everything Ronin was, everything she’d done, was washed away, the stain of black that once permeated her soul now a pristine white, washing clean her conscience. It was almost as if it were meant to be.

A woman stood before her when she opened her eyes again, her mind tired and body aching. _My daughter,_ she sighed, hazel eyes watery. _I wish I had come for you sooner._

“Mom?” Ronin asked, the word foreign on her tongue, almost stuck in her throat.

The dark-haired woman nodded, sitting beside her. _I have been with you since I passed. I never left._

“But I fell,” Ronin murmured. “I failed you, I never redeemed myself—”

_Oh, baby,_ the dark-skinned woman murmured, pressing a hand to her daughter’s cheek. _I never wanted any of this for you. I would have kept you from the Jedi. I would have kept you from the Sith, from your father. None of this would have happened. But your father, he… He knew you had power in you. Knew who you could be. He said that you being born with gold eyes made you naturally a Sith, but when we died, he faded from this realm. He faded from the Force. I remained with you, waiting for you to seek me out._

Ronin looked away, clenching her fists in anger and pain. “You _abandoned me._ ”

_We were killed, Mariana. There wasn’t much we could do. Tyranus and Sidious came to us, and even your father wouldn’t hand him over._

“So, my father really was a Sith.”

_Yes._

Ronin nodded, gritting her teeth. “Did you ever fall?”

Her mother hesitated, and then looked at her, eyes strong. _Once. I fell from grace, Mari, when I fell for your father. When you fell for Kenobi, I knew what would happen. But you were his Padawan, his prize child. He turned you into a weapon, and you killed for him. But it was no different than what I did for the Jedi._

“Both systems are flawed,” Mariana replied.

_Indeed._ Her mother paused. _They never told you my name, did they?_ When no reply came, she sighed. _My name is Havana Mylark. Your father was named Jacen, but he never had a last name. He was raised by the Sith, animalistic and charismatic and charming. I met him at a Coruscanti bar, when I’d had far too many and had just lost my Padawan on a mission. I was about twenty-three, he was twenty-six. I’d drunkenly snuck him into the Temple, sleeping with him and passing out with him beside me. When I’d woken up, he was gone, and three Jedi holocrons had been stolen, along with my lightsaber and a few other of my items that had been my master’s. Grandmaster Yoda was never really pleased with the way I carried myself, anyway. Thought I was too… progressive, too free._

“You allowed yourself more freedoms than most Jedi,” Ronin smirked. “You’d get along great with Anakin and Quinlan.”

_So it would seem,_ she smiled. _Either way, I tracked him down. He held me captive for eight months, and in that eight months, I fell for him. You were conceived during this time. He never treated me poorly, nor ever gave me a reason to think he’d hurt me or you. But when I was rescued, I found out about a month later I was pregnant. I ran, hiding from the Order until you were born. Three months after that, I was on a call with Mace Windu. I told him about you, how strong you were—I made him promise me that if anything happened to me, he would take care of you and do what he thought was best._

“I thought it was Master Jinn who found me,” Mariana murmured, and her mother shrugged.

_It doesn’t matter, darling. It’s all in the past. But you’re here now. Stay with me, please. It’s been so long since I’ve been with you._ Her mother caressed her cheek, and Ronin felt like a small child, nodding into her mother’s embrace.

 

“How’s she doing?” Kenobi asked, Anakin sitting on the bed beside his friend.

“Her pulse is weak, her breathing shallow. I wouldn’t be surprised if she passed in the next few days,” Anakin murmured weakly. It had been days since he slept, Kenobi was sure. The bags under the Jedi’s eyes didn’t match the tension in his body, and with a small kiss to the Jedi’s neck (which was promptly shooed away by a deterred Anakin), Kenobi hummed out his thoughts.

“Go get some sleep, Anakin. Keeping yourself awake is only going to kill you, and then where will she be?” He asked gently, and the blond man nodded, standing and running his hand through his hair.

As Anakin began to walk back out, he paused, turning back to the Sith. “Kenobi.”

“Yes?” The Sith asked, turning towards him.

The Jedi slammed his lips into the Sith’s, passion swirling around them in an instant. Kenobi, shocked, took a moment to respond, but kissed the Jedi back just as passionately, nipping and grinning. When they pulled away, Anakin stared at him for a few moments, nodding, and then walked away with an air of _So that’s how it is._

Kenobi sat on the bed, pulling Mariana’s hand into his, gently smoothing back her hair. She let go of him, of Anakin, of all of them it had seemed. Her scarred eyes were at total peace, her face caught tight in a peaceful rest.

And it was at her side he remained until Skywalker came to switch shifts a few hours later, obviously more well-rested and with a cup of caf in his hand. A far more gentle and peaceful kiss came, and the bet came to Kenobi’s mind.

_We will never say “I love you”; if we do, we will be lost._

“Kenobi,” he murmured.

“Yes?” The Sith breathed.

“What happened to me in the Temple?” He asked, blue eyes scared. “I feel…. Different. Darker. I feel dirty.”

Kenobi’s face became sympathetic, and for an instant, just an instant, Anakin thought he saw a flash of blue in them. “Oh, Anakin. You’re going to be so beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the Jedi’s forehead.

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked him.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Anakin,” Kenobi grunted, his eyes intense and grip on the blond’s shoulders tight. “Do you trust me?”

In Anakin’s mind, there were whispers of truth, of trust, of unbreakable faith. And so, softly, he nodded. “Yes,” he breathed.

Kenobi pressed a feral kiss to his lips, and then held him tight. “Then you will suffer for it, Anakin, but you will come out so much stronger.” He gestured to Ronin, who hadn’t moved in her comatose state. “She’s still breathing, but her breaths have become shallower. I don’t know what battle she’s fighting, Anakin, but it doesn’t look good.”

“I should take her back to the Temple,” he murmured. “They have better equipment there; she’d have a better chance of surviving, you know?”

Kenobi felt his heart wrench at the pain and despair on his lover’s face, but nodded in agreement. “I would go with you, but they would kill me on sight.”

Anakin smiled gently, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll tell Ahsoka. She’ll have the choice of coming with, back to Coruscant.”

“Will you return?” Kenobi asked softly, his face carefully even.

Anakin didn’t answer right away, his face carefully expressionless as his arm slipped around Kenobi’s waist, a shocking, mindless form of expressing affection. “I don’t know,” Anakin finally replied. “If Snips comes with me, I don’t know. If Ronin lives, maybe.” Anakin paused, looking at Ronin on the bed. “If she doesn’t, I don’t think I’d be able to be anywhere without being haunted by her.”

Somewhere in the corner, the Jedi’s holocomm beeped, and he groaned, kissing Kenobi on the cheek. “I think that’s the Council. I should probably take it,” he murmured, and Kenobi sighed, catching his arm as he walked past.

“You were avoiding me yesterday, now you’re showering me with affection. What’s going on with you?”

Anakin paused, then shrugged. “I don’t know, Kenobi. I have no fucking clue.” He laughed, pulling his arm free from Kenobi’s grip. “I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending to be the perfect Jedi, like you were when I was a kid. I’m tired of living up to the Council’s expectations.” As he continued, his voice got more and more hysterical, his gaze more and more unstable. “I’m tired of being more than I can be to please a hierarchy I’m not entirely sure I believe in anymore. I’m tired of pretending that after almost two months, after eight _long_ weeks of living with you, of training with you, of reading books in Ronin’s library, that I’m _not_ falling in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending that it’s not eating me alive. I _want_ to be the perfect Jedi. I want to be what the Council expects of me, but I’m not.” His eyes flicked down to the scratch on his arm, almost healed, as his breathing returned to normal and his aggression seemed to fade. “What did Darth Traya _do_ to me, Kenobi?” He sat on the edge of the bed as the comm finally silenced itself, only to start again a few moments later.

“Do you want me to answer it?” Kenobi gently said.

Anakin waved a hand. “They know I’m with you by now. Check the comm number first, all the usual ones are listed under their name.”

Kenobi picked it up, the ticker reading _not_ the Council, but someone familiar to him. “It’s Luminara. Should I—”

“Go ahead, Kenobi. She shouldn’t bite too hard.”

Paling, Kenobi answered it. “Skywalker’s line.”

_“KENOBI?!”_ Luminara gasped, the look on her face almost comical.

Kenobi, though, actually did laugh, Anakin trying to keep it together. “Kenobi, give me my comm. You are now banned from using it, _ever._ ”

“But Anakin!” Kenobi whined, and the Jedi pulled on a shirt, shaking his head.

“Give it,” he murmured, his hand extending for the disc.

Pouting, Kenobi dropped it in the extended hand, pressing a kiss to Anakin’s hair as he walked out. Anakin did his best to look annoyed, and to the _very_ confused Luminara, he said, “He’s worse than Quinlan sometimes.”

Luminara nodded, though she looked like she just saw a ghost. _“Please tell me you’re coming back soon, Skywalker. I feel like I’m the only sane individual left on the Council.”_

Anakin paused, looking at her with confused eyes. “Why? What’s wrong?”

_“Mace Windu came back with Depa, he’d been cornered by Sep forces. Last I heard, he was resting in his quarters and Depa was in the med hall, getting her broken ribs mended. Master Yoda just returned from Kashyyyk; it’s almost as if he’s determined to lose this war. Kit will soon be sent out on a mission that we all know will likely be suicidal. Master Mundi is with his wives, I think, but I don’t really care.”_ She paused, scrubbing at her face. _“All of this is falling apart, Anakin. Are you coming home?”_

“I wouldn’t call the Temple my home, but yeah, I’m coming back soon. Probably should be leaving in the next few days. I’ll give my full report to the Council when I’m called in a few hours,” he added. “It’s been…. It’s been different here.”

_“You seem conflicted.”_

“I am,” he responded, without hesitation. “But I don’t want to discuss it over comm, not when the Council could be listening in. I trust you, Luminara; when I tell you, please don’t betray me.”

She nodded, the holo becoming hazy around her face, but her features were still distorted in agony, in her pain.

“Luminara,” Anakin suddenly said, “what’s wrong?”

The Jedi master stood up straighter, but broke down crying, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes in an attempt to stop it. _“Bariss has gone missing. She was on mission with Master Yoda to Kashyyyk.”_

“I’m sure she’s fine, Master Unduli,” Anakin smiled. “Barriss is a capable warrior, and is capable of befriending even the Wookies.”

The tired Master nodded, sighing. _“You’re right, Anakin. I’m sorry for being worried for nothing.”_

“You have every right to be worried,” Anakin hummed. “The Council meeting is in a few hours, Master Luminara. You should get some rest; you look tired.”

She waved him off. _“Yeah, yeah, Skywalker. May the Force be with you.”_

“And you,” Anakin murmured, even though the Master had already terminated the comm.

“You’re _hopeless,_ Skywalker,” Ventress grunted at him as he turned around.

She was cleaning under her nails with a knife, icy blue eyes glaring holes into him. “I can’t believe Kenobi even lets you have a comm. If you were my prisoner—”

“I’m not a prisoner here, Ventress,” Anakin sighed, pecking Ronin on her sweaty forehead and pressing a cool cloth to it. “You’ll be pleased to hear that after this last comm to Coruscant, I plan on leaving. Ronin needs better medical care than we can give her here.”

Ventress’s eyes flicked to his friend on the bed, and for a split second, he thought he saw guilt and remorse in her body language. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and the Nightsister snorted. “Well, I’m sure Kenobi is pleased.”

“Far from it, dearest,” he grunted from behind her, running a hand through his reddish hair. “I just spoke with Ahsoka, though I don’t think she was really in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone me.”

“Is she okay? I should go talk to her,” Anakin murmured, almost in a daze, and as he went to brush past Kenobi, the Sith caught his hand.

“Anakin,” he murmured, and then let out a string of curses in Sith before continuing. “She’s conflicted. The Dark and the Light are fighting within her, just like they are you and Mariana.”

Anakin glared at him, yanking his hand from the Sith’s. “All the more reason for me to talk to her.”

“She has to do this by herself, Anakin!” Kenobi shouted after him, but the Jedi didn’t stop.

“ _Kriffing_ Jedi,” Kenobi grunted, shaking his head in frustration. “Always so bi-polar.”

“Kenobi!” Ventress hissed, smacking his arm.

“I’m not going to lie, Ventress. Ten minutes ago it was sleepy kisses and mindless affection and now it’s cold shoulders and glares! What am I supposed to do? _Tolerate it?_ ”

“Yes.”

Kenobi stopped, looking at his companion in shock. “Excuse me?”

Ventress sighed, tossing the knife in the air and catching it by the razor-sharp blade. “Let him be, Kenobi. He’s not someone you can craft into a weapon as easily as you did Mariana. It takes patience, time, and trust. He doesn’t trust you, or himself.”

Kenobi grunted, pushing himself off the wall as Anakin came back, looking like a kicked puppy. “Didn’t go well, did it?”

“I hugged her and told her that no matter what, I was there for her,” Anakin snapped. “It went fine, I guess, but she’s a mess. I wish I could help her more.”

“Just let her be, Skywalker. She’ll figure it out,” Kenobi muttered, and the Jedi nodded.

“I’ve got a meeting,” he murmured. “You should go, or else the entire Jedi Order will come down on us with a fist of iron.”

“We can take on some Jedi, you nugget,” Ventress grunted.

“I mean the _entire_ Jedi Order. Clones, Padawans, Knights, Masters, all of them would come here. You can’t win that one, Ventress. You’re just too outnumbered,” he muttered. “Now go, guys. Please.”

Kenobi nodded, ignoring the surge of anger in his chest, and dragged Ventress away as the Jedi donned his formal robes, trying to ignore the inner turmoil that plagued him.

~*~*~

_Avalon woke Quinlan up when they landed, the girl's eyes tired._ “You have to take us in,” she grunted. “They need your Jedi codes.”

Quinlan nodded, sitting up and shaking the bleariness from his head. Codes. Landing. He could do that in his sleep.

Avalon handed him the headset, and he immediately was greeted by the _very_ annoyed voice of Master Windu.

_“Girl, get back here. I don't care if you have a Jedi--”_

“Well, good morning to you too, Mace,” Quinlan laughed. “Quinlan Vos, requesting to land....” He looked at the agitated face of Avalon, who was just _livid_ with the proceedings. “And an audience with the Council for my good friend Avalon.”

There was silence on the line, and he heard Windu’s voice carefully intone, _“Distress code.”_

“Windu can suck my dick,” Quinlan said, in the most serious voice he could muster.

The disappointed sigh at the end of it was what made the Jedi lose his cool, howling with laughter as the annoyed granting of landing came across the now-dead line.

When he had recovered, they were already in the Temple hangar, finding multiple Jedi standing there, looking as annoyed as he was amused. “Quinlan, your little codes must be changed,” Master Luminara groaned, and Quinlan winked at her.

“I'd like to introduce the _esteemed_ Masters to my good friend, Avalon of Lothal.” With a flourish of his hands, he pretended to accentuate the presence of the teen girl beside him. With an annoyed look, she spoke brazenly.

“Can I punch him?”

Quinlan panicked for a moment, his eyes wide, before Luminara sighed as well, shaking her head. He relaxed. “Avalon of Lothal, you say? Why do you need presence with the Jedi Council?”

“Political matters. Force-user to Force-user. My master specifically requested I come here, and speak with a Master Yoda and his Council. He said to mention something about… ugh,” she muttered, and then let out a string of words in that language Quinlan didn’t know, and then said, “I think her name is Mariana? Yeah. Mariana Chayten.” Luminara paled, her eyes flicking to Quinlan, _begging_ for it not to be a joke. He shrugged, not knowing what his old friend had to do with anything. She’d died about ten years before, as far as he knew. “I wouldn't be here unless it were vital to my Order, Masters.” Avalon inclined her head in a show of respect, and Quinlan was mildly impressed.

“And Master Vos, why have you returned from your mission?” Luminara asked.

“I was sent to investigate the possibility of the return of the Gray Jedi and the Dark Jedi. My answer was discovered, but I was under oath to Avalon to not disclose this information until the time was right.” He held up his hands, shrugging. “I suppose hands were forced.”

Luminara sighed. “Follow me.”

They walked through the halls of the Temple, Aayla running to her Master’s side as he walked. She didn't ask any questions, praise her, but was bubbling with them. She was better than him at holding her tongue, it seemed.

They walked into the council chambers, the Masters who had escorted them fanning out and taking a seat. One spot was empty, and the blue hologram of Anakin Skywalker was soon projected.

“Anakin?” Vos asked, surprised.

_“Hello, Quinlan. It’s good to see you again.”_ He looked to the Masters, and then over his shoulder. _“I may vanish at any time. This mission is.... testing my patience,”_ Anakin growled, and Vos snorted.

“This girl,” Windu sighed, “claims political business.”

_“Isn't that the place of the Senate?”_ Skywalker asked, and the majority of the Council agreed.

“Allow me to explain,” Avalon said, stepping forward. “My name is Avalon, Master of the Gray Jedi. My Order exists in secret, mainly to defend ourselves from Jedi and Sith alike.” She looked around at the shocked faces of the Council, and she took a breath. “I am sent here on behalf of Grandmaster Lors Tekka, my master, the rest of the Gray Jedi Order, and the Order of the Dark Jedi. We have temporarily aligned ourselves in the midst of this war.... And I am the liaison chosen to share it. I was told to speak with a Mariana Chayten and Master Yoda.”

Anakin’s face showed shock, his eyes wide. _“Mariana? Why her?”_

“I do not know, Master. May I speak with her?” Avalon asked warily.

“Avalon,” Quinlan said softly. “She died ten years ago, in a Black Sun bombing on Mandalore. I was lucky to escape with my life.”

“Alive, Mariana is,” Yoda finally said, his eyes tiredly looking at the young girl in front of him. “But here, she is not.”

“What? How can she be alive if—” Quinlan cut himself off in his triage of fury, shock filling his bones. “She found Kenobi.” A small nod came from the green Grandmaster, and Quinlan took a breath, gathering himself. “And she fell.” Another nod, and Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Quinlan, if he hadn’t been so distraught, would have commented on his exhausted appearance, or the turmoil that seemed to surround him. But, the Master knew, he wasn’t the only one who sensed it. He couldn’t be.

_“Mariana took on the pseudonym of Ronin at the Battle of Naboo. As you know, she was the one who helped me defeat Maul. She is with me on this mission, walking the fine line between the dark side and the light. I wouldn’t say she’s a Sith, Masters; she’s far from it. And everyone is here. Kenobi, Ventress, all of us. We’re far from the dark, far from Sith. But our alleigances are different, who owns our soul is different. Ronin—excuse me, Mariana—has somehow regained her freedom in every sense of the word, save for when she chains herself down by her own pain and past.”_

“Can you bring her to you?” Avalon asked gently, the rest of the council in silent shock.

Anakin shook his head. _“No. She sits on a medcot, down the hall from me, in a comatose state. She, Ahsoka, and Ventress went out for a supply run and were greeted by Dooku and –what sounds like – a battalion of battle droids. Ahsoka will give her full report upon her call in herself. Ronin was gravely injured. We’re not expecting her to live.”_

Quinlan gasped, as if someone had stabbed him through the chest. He leaned against a pillar, groaning.

“Quin?” Avalon asked gently. “I can continue but only if you’re by my side. I had very clear instructions.”

“Go on, I’m okay.”

_“I’m sorry, Quinlan. We’re all devastated over here. Save for Ventress, she seems a little happy about it. Then again, the two only get along when they’re fighting, so.”_

The Kiffar laughed a bit, and felt himself recover. “Thanks, Skyguy. I owe you one.”

The Jedi Knight groaned. _“Please, never ever call me that again.”_

He laughed gently, and with a gentle nod, the Gray Jedi Master continued. “Send Miss Chayten my condolences, Master Skywalker, on behalf of my Master. I have heard much about her; they were good friends at one point.” She paused, turning back to the rest of the council. “As I said, I am a spokesperson elected to speak on behalf of the Gray Jedi and the Dark Jedi.” Another pause. “We will not be allying ourselves with either side of this petty Civil War, and have chosen to defend the neutral systems. I come with this news and a warning: cross us, and die.”

A hush fell over the Council.

“That is a weighty set of words, from a child,” Master Windu hissed out.

“My age does not correlate with my skill, Masters. The Gray Jedi are entirely dedicated to their cause, relentless in their training and pursuit of balance within the Force. Some of us achieve this faster than others. I was taken from my home after the Jedi killed my family at the age of three, and raised by my Master. This is the only way I have ever known.” She looked out over the Jedi Council, her voice and gaze even. “I will not hesitate to strike any of you down. It isn't of personal vendetta, you must understand. It is by order. The Gray Jedi, we learned from the Dark Wars. We were betrayed by our own, who had become Sith or Jedi. Since then, we have beaten loyalty into our next generation, emphasizing it for our own survival. I will _not_ hesitate to kill any of you on order, lest I suffer the consequences.”

Silence fell on the council, and Skywalker looked the most distressed. Quinlan couldn't tell if it was because of his situation or the girl that had just threatened the entire Jedi Order. In all honesty, he wasn't sure either.

“Avalon, honey,” Vos whispered, “are you sure? Because, like, I was _not_ expecting that.”

“Quinlan, my friend, I would not lie in front of the Jedi. I am no fool. Search the Force, and you would know I am not defending my mind from them.... However, what does perplex me....”

Her voice trailed off, and then as if a spirit came over her, she whirled out of the Council chamber and down the halls. He knew what that moment usually meant. Avalon’s inhumanly close contact with the Force in its purest form gave her amazing abilities, but her young mind could barely handle the weight of what she saw. If he didn't go with, she would get hurt. “Follow us,” Quinlan hissed, panic in his voice, and he took off after her.

The rest of the Council rushed down, weaving their way through the Padawans and younglings as they moved through the Temple. The Gray was able to find her way down, deeper, deeper into the catacombs and even further below it, into the ruins.

“Peculiar,” she finally said.

In the darkness, the Jedi couldn't see anything. But with a focused burst of energy, torches along the walls were lit, fire burning in the place of lights.

“I’m cold,” Aayla spoke softly. Quinlan wrapped his arms around her shoulders in response.

“We’re hundreds of feet below ground.” Mace’s annoyed face came from behind them, and he wove his way up front and reached for Avalon. “Listen, _girl—_ ”

Quinlan grabbed his hand. “You don't want to touch her. Trust me on this.” The insistent tone of Quinlan’s voice was enough to make the Master hesitate, and he dropped his hand after yanking it from Vos’ grip.

“It is cold because this is a Force Nexus,” Avalon grinned. “ _Right below the Jedi Temple!!_ How exciting!”

“A Force Nexus?” Aayla asked.

“A concentration of the Dark Side, it is, young one,” Yoda murmured, speaking for the first time. “Rumors, there were. About the Temple being built on Sith of Old ruins.” He looked up at the black stone, humming. “True, those rumors have proven. Built on Sith ruins, indeed; wary, we must be.”

A hush fell over the group of Masters, gathering torches and looking around at artifacts.

“Quinlan,” Avalon smiled, her face alight with the potential for more knowledge.

“Yes?”

She turned to him and grinned. “Touch. Everything. I need to know who’s been down here in the last five years.”

“He will do no such thing!” Mace snarled, and the girl stood toe-to-toe with the man, a twinkle in her mischievous blue eyes.

“Master Windu,” she smiled, removing her leather gloves and smoothing out the Jedi’s clothes. “Quinlan having a poke around shouldn't be a problem.”

Quinlan grimaced, but anxiously awaited the results. _Balls of diamond,_ he grunted.

“Actually, Quinlan, go ahead,” Windu murmured, and Avalon smiled wickedly.

“You heard him, Quinlan. Go ahead,” she winked, and he smiled like a smitten puppy as she pulled her gloves back on.

“Oh you fool. I love you,” he grinned, and then rushed around.

“How did you....?” Luminara asked, and the girl shrugged, wiggling her fingers.

“ _Magic.”_

Aayla looked up at her master’s friend with a look of awe on her face. He had been gone for a while, yes, but he had brought back someone more powerful than she ever imagined.

Luminara narrowed her eyes. “Were you the Negotiator?”

Avalon snorted, howling with laughter. When she had recovered, she wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was a good one. Heavens, no. The Negotiator is the Sith Lord Revis, or former Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. I thought you knew this, that's why you sent Anakin to go infiltrate the Sith.”

Windu finally came back to himself, and a righteous fury sparked through him. “You _mind tricked_ me!”

He went to reach for her, but Luminara grabbed him by the shoulder. “All due respect, Master Windu, but she didn't use the Force on you.”

Quinlan came sauntering back, grinning but fatigued. “Aww, did Master Windu get some through the Force? Is that what passes for _appropriate use of_ \--”

Windu flat out punched Vos in the face, the Jedi righting himself and grinning. “Aight. I deserved that one.”

“Go ahead, hit him again. Please. For my sake,” Avalon drawled. “He won't shut up about the girls!”

“Oh, please, you fucked just as many,” Quinlan growled. “Anyway, yeah, definitely has been some activity down here for the past, Force, twenty years? It seems the Sith still come down here.... This is their Temple.” Quinlan spread his arms out, twirling around. “We are standing in an active Sith Temple, and we haven't died yet. Oh man, if Kenobi and I were still Sith hunting….”

“Only because I haven't wished you dead yet, Vos,” a voice cackled, and a man cloaked in black walked from the shadows, followed by the familiar face of Count Dooku.

“Well, shit,” Avalon whimpered, but centered herself anyway. “Master Sidious, Lord Tyranus. It is good to see you still alive. Tyranus, I heard you did a friend of mine some serious damage. That threatens our previous arrangement.”

_This girl is insane,_ Quinlan mouthed to Windu, who did his _very_ best not to charge down towards the two Sith twenty feet from them. The others ignited their sabers, blue, green, and purple blades thrumming in harmony as they prepared to defend themselves.

“Step aside, Gray Jedi, and we will let you and your little neutral systems live,” Sidious growled at her.

“Or I'll kill you myself,” Dooku snarled, and Avalon looked him up and down before snorting.

“Sorry, old man. You're not much of a threat to me. But them? Well, maybe. Let us go, Masters. It was I who led them down here, out of my own curiosity.” Avalon bowed at the waist, gray hair slipping past her ears and across her cheekbones, hands splayed out to the sides. She remained like that, feeling Sidious press at her mind.

“Avalon,” Quinlan warned.

“I would go while you have the chance, Quinlan. I owe you one for saving my ass on Lothal. Call us even,” she grunted out painfully, and Vos directed the Jedi away.

When they had all left, the pressure eased, and Avalon could breathe again. She stood, popping her back. “I hate it when you do that. Every time I have to discuss treaties, _every time,_ Sidious.”

“It is a way of keeping you honest, you see.”

“The Gray Jedi are the _peacekeepers_ between the light and the dark. We have an agreement, only because the Jedi and Sith must coexist for harmony to be achieved. But this, this is going too far, Sidious. I have already been informed of the allegiance of mine and my relatives in the Dark Jedi.... The question is, will you let us do our job of keeping the neutrals safe? Keeping both Jedi and Sith principles alive?”

Tyranus narrowed his eyes. “I do not like you, _girl.”_

_“Old man,_ ” she hissed back. “If I didn't have to be here I wouldn't. Oh, and loves,” Avalon said, now heading up the stairs to re-enter the Temple, “congratulations on the return of Darth Navini. If you ever stumble across her, send her my way. She's a fine fuck.”

She then ascended the stairs, leaving the two mildly stunned Sith in silence.  

*~*~*

_“Revis,”_ _his master called from the holoprojection. “You keep disappointing me, it seems.”_

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir,” Kenobi muttered, gazing up at the larger-than-life projection of his master from his knees.

_“Do you remember the family I ordered you kill on Jedha, fourteen years ago, to prove your allegiance to me?”_

“Well, not clearly, but yes. Why? What happened?” Kenobi breathed, confusion clouding his features.

_“The girl lived, you insolent fool,”_ Sidious snarled at him. _“She has shown her face to both Tyranus and I, threatened us,_ us! _, with our lives lest we cross her little band of Gray Jedi. They call her Avalon of Lothal now,”_ Sidious grunted. _“Perhaps…. Perhaps it’s time to execute sixty-six, Revis.”_

“No!” Kenobi snapped, almost too quickly. “No, no, I can do this. I’ll track her down. Give me time, Master, I can make up for my mistakes. Please, please, forgive me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to the floor.

Silence.

_“Very well, Darth Revis. I will grant you this just once, do you understand me? You have a standard year; I understand that this girl may be difficult to find. A second longer, and you will perish alongside the Jedi Order. Am I clear?”_

“Yes, Master,” Kenobi breathed, and the holo was cut off, leaving the room dark and empty.

He had one year. One standard year to bring Anakin Skywalker to his master a full-fledged Sith, or to kill Sidious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some real fuckery's about, yes sir it is.   
> yay! now all the players have been introduced (well, most of them. the last one doesn't show up for a /while/) and you can all start to hate me officially because now we have plot!!!!! go yell at me on tumblr i'm stxnesandshadxws (I should also remove the slow burn. they've fucked. they're gonna fuck again reaaaal soon. I have about as much self-control as a particular racist cheeto I could mention, but at least I don't have the ego/pride/stupidity/racism/xenophobia/homophobia/etcetcetcetc as him. America is fucked, y'all. i'll see you at the Emperor's inauguration, fully prepared to be killed.)  
> also, I've caught the flu, so some REAL fuckery's about. for those of you (which is most of you) that have not been exposed to sick obsidian, let me tell you, you are in for a fucking ride my friends. I had to lay out a strict summary of chapter six for my sick ass to follow tomorrow when I sit down and write so I don't do some crazy ass shit, like incorporate Spider-Man and turn this into one hell of a crack fic.   
> also, my fellow americans: I will be protesting against Darth Orange at some point in Chicago by summer. I don't actually live in Chicago, but if you're not good with geography, I basically live in Chicago (the entirety of the Midwest is considered either Chicago or Saint Louis, apparently. *shrugs* I don't make the rules.)   
> hmu if you plan on going at some point. i'll probably be with a latino guy playing the Imperial March on his saxophone. it'll be lit.   
> excuse my rambling.   
> sid out.


	6. { s i x }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's gay in the very beginning. just skip down to the break if you don't want to read it.

{ p a r t  I I }

_Anakin came into Kenobi’s room later that night, his eyes tired and defeated. Kenobi, alarmed, sat_ up in his bed, staring at the sad, static Jedi, who had a curious expression on his face. He swore as he almost spilled tea on his pants and bed, catching it just in time. “Sorry, Anakin. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I leave soon,” he murmured, tugging on his leather pants’ cuff at his ankle with his other foot. “I didn’t think it good form to leave without saying goodbye, so.”

The Jedi’s voice was soft, low, hesitant. Kenobi bookmarked the page on his novel, setting it on his nightstand. “Is there something else?”

“I feel you have the right to know,” Anakin murmured. “I feel safe here. At home. Like this is the only place where I won’t be judged by people who want to micromanage my entire life, like this is the only place I’ve been truly loved since—” _since Padme._  

Kenobi stood, brushing the tears from the cheeks of the taller Jedi, who seemed so much smaller and more fragile. “Anakin, I can say for certain that you will _always_ be welcome here.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, the watery blue eyes of the Jedi greeting the gold of the Sith’s.

“Do you want a cup of tea before you go? I just made a fresh pot,” Kenobi said softly, but Anakin’s hand on his hip changed the tone.

“Give me this one last night, Kenobi. Please,” Anakin breathed, pulling the Sith flush against him and resting his head on the other’s forehead.

“Anakin, are you alright?” Kenobi murmured, eyes gentle and worried. He pulled away a bit, and Anakin almost whined at the loss of contact.

“I’m far from it, trust me, but—”

“Are you sure?” The shock that Kenobi had even asked was almost paralyzing. Anakin only nodded in an affirmative, and the Sith sighed. “You won’t panic on me again?”

Anakin shook his head. “No. I want this. I want you,” he murmured.

Kenobi took a breath, nodding. “Okay. Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?”

Anakin only responded by capturing Kenobi’s lips with his, pulling their bodies flush against each other. It was the gentlest thing about them, Kenobi was sure; if his times with Anakin would always start like this, time would never pass the same way.

The showers of affection turned needy, nipping at lips and exposed flesh as Anakin’s hands slid under Kenobi’s tunic, the black fabric giving under the Jedi’s touch. Kenobi quickly rid himself of it, Anakin almost immediately locking onto his shoulders and chest, sliding down the torso of the elder Sith, leaving red scratches and purpling marks along the way down.

“A man like you doesn’t serve on his knees,” Kenobi growled, grabbing Anakin by the hair and hauling him back onto his feet, working him out of the heavy outer tunics he wore.

“How would you know?” Anakin murmured back, and the burning gold gaze of Kenobi found his blistering blue, grinning in a mischievous reply.

“I have seen many a man,” Kenobi grinned, tracing fingertips along Anakin’s muscles. “I have trained alongside spirits many would revere as gods.” He turned Anakin towards the bed, stumbling out of shoes and shoving him down. “I have given myself to an old practice deemed too brutal for mortal men.” Kenobi clambered on top of him, resting across Anakin’s hips and watching with a sadistic sense of pleasure at the relief and frustration that crossed the blond’s face. “And you wonder why,” Kenobi grunted, grinding his hips down onto Anakin’s, “why I _know_ you don’t belong on your knees.”

“ _Kriff,_ Kenobi,” Anakin snarled, mechanical hand digging bruises into the bare flesh at Kenobi’s hip.

“Though, don’t get me wrong,” he grinned, leaning down to Anakin’s ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps along the pale skin of the Jedi, “you are a _beautiful_ sight on your knees.” He sucked on Anakin’s earlobe for a moment, the Jedi’s other hand flying to cover his mouth in an instant.

“Ah, ah, ah, _woyunoks,_ ” Kenobi murmured. “Seems you have a weakness after all.”

“I hate you,” the Jedi grunted, the Sith sucking marks into the bare neck of the Jedi.

“No you don’t,” the Sith grinned back, his golden eyes flicking over the bare torso of the Jedi as he sat back up. “Not yet, anyways.”

Kenobi rolled off Anakin, who whined in protest, and sat in his armchair, staring at the Jedi who glared at him from the bed. “Excuse you,” Anakin growled, and Kenobi sipped at his tea.

“Really, I must insist on the tea, Anakin. It’s very good,” Kenobi grinned, watching as the Jedi sat up, eyes narrowed into annoyed, lust-filled slits.

“What do you want from me?” he snarled, watching with an animalistic, hawk-like accuracy.

“Everything,” Kenobi murmured, and Anakin nodded, getting off the bed and sitting in between Kenobi’s legs.

“I’ll serve on my knees for you,” Anakin murmured, and Kenobi grinned, pulling Anakin up into his lap and working the Jedi free from the rest of his clothes. The leather pants were, in all honesty, a bit dramatic, even for Anakin, but Kenobi was _not_ complaining.

“You will never serve on your knees, Anakin, not unless you allow it,” Kenobi breathed, marveling in the sight of him. Last time, it had been in a drunken haze, induced by hormones and poor control; this time, it was completely sobering, in a way, to see the Chosen One offering _himself_ to Kenobi in such a primitive, explicit, yet raw way. Anakin’s breath stuttered as Kenobi’s brushed fingertips, then nails, tracing their way around his torso, and then sucking at his neck.

“You once told me that you could take whatever you wanted, and you want everything from me,” Anakin stammered out, listening to hums of affirmation from his partner. “Why won’t you just _take it?_ ”

“Oh, Anakin,” Kenobi hummed, pausing temporarily to smirk up at the Jedi. “I don’t have to take anything. You’re _giving_ it all to me.”

Anakin curled his lip a bit, capturing Kenobi’s lips in his, but was roughly pulled off by his hair, the Jedi yelping. Hand fisted in Anakin’s hair, Kenobi resumed his former torture, the Jedi’s hands gripping Kenobi’s forearms in a vice.

It was agonizing minutes of this, Anakin doing his best to keep quiet, but Kenobi knew better. The hand readjusted in Anakin’s hair, yanking his head back, and eventually pulling the Jedi completely off of him. “Bed. Now.”

Anakin scrambled to obey, Kenobi pressing at him, _all of him_ , without touching him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the Sith was using the Force to move him into place, the Jedi’s hands immediately being pinned above his head and his legs spread.

“So _fucking_ gorgeous,” Kenobi growled, his eyes glinting a brilliant shade of gold that Anakin swore he’d never seen before.

Touches crawled down Anakin’s chest, trailing down the inside of his thighs, just taunting him as Kenobi stalked around the bed, a small smile on his face.

“You’re only torturing yourself,” Anakin grunted out, staring at him.

“You see, Anakin,” Kenobi growled, phantom nails digging sharp lines down the inner thighs of the Jedi, “this is all part of the game for me. I have to break you before I can fuck you.”

“You didn’t say that when we fucked last time,” Anakin grunted, but the last syllable came out was accented by a yelp, ghost fingers closing around the Jedi’s throat.

“ _Do_ be quiet, Anakin. Your voice is distracting me.” Kenobi waved his hand, the restraints tightening and the door locking. “But don’t forget to put up a fight. It’s more _fun_ that way.”

~*~*~

Ahsoka found Ventress on the couch after a few minutes of searching, watching a holofilm; the Darksider turned to look at the Jedi girl, eyes sharp. “Yes?”

“I came to say goodbye,” Ahsoka murmured, fidgeting with a trinket in her hand. “I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

Ventress paused the holofilm, standing and walking over to the Jedi, her cropped shirt loose around her shoulders and her sweatpants low on her hips. “I know that, Ahsoka.”

The Nightsister wrapped her in a tight hug, the Jedi freezing in shock. Affection from _Ventress_ was unheard of, but Ahsoka hugged her back, letting the two of them stay like that until Ventress uneasily pulled away.

“If you ever need a sister,” Ventress murmured, reaching under her shirt and pulling out a necklace and pulled over her head, pressing it into Ahsoka’s open palm, “you can find me in this.”

“A kyber?” Ahsoka murmured, her voice shocked. “How were you able to hide this from all of us?”

Ventress smiled sadly, averting her eyes. “Tano, there are more things about the Force than you understand. This was my Master’s kyber, and I wished to keep him near me, even after the Jedi killed him. I retrieved his saber, though it was damaged beyond repair, and kept the crystal.” Ventress nodded towards it, Ahsoka taking the foggy, whiteish crystal out of her hand to hold up to the light. The silver melted over the top of it glinted like a shining beacon, and the black cord strung through it was almost threadbare and worn out.

“Thank you, Ventress; I’ll take good care of it,” she murmured.

“Tano,” Ventress choked out, her fists clenching at her sides. “If I die before you see me again—”

“Don’t say that, Ventress. Battles won’t be the same without you on the other side of the field,” Ahsoka grinned, and the Darksider grinned in response.

“No, you nugget,” Ventress chuckled. “I mean if Dooku gets to me. I want this to be safe, and I don’t want Kenobi to get caught with it. It could mean serious… Serious consequences. He’s not supposed to have much in terms of _attachments_ , mainly because it could interfere with him and his missions.”

“Awfully Jedi for a Sith,” Ahsoka grunted, slipping the cord over her head.

“That’s what I said!” Ventress groaned, throwing her hands up in the air. “But anything to please his Master, I guess.”

“How even is Kenobi Sith anyway? Isn’t there a rule of two or something?”

Ventress shrugged. “You should ask him at one point. I’m not really sure.” Ahsoka nodded, and the Darksider gestured to the couch. “Want to watch the rest of this holofilm with me? I can start it over, if you’d like.”

“I have to finish packing,” Ahsoka murmured. “You can come help, if you’d like. I don’t have much, though; just some datapads and all my research.”

“Research? You _lived_ in Ronin’s library, didn’t you?”

Ahsoka glanced away. “Well, no.”

Ventress narrowed her eyes. “What kind of research?”

“I was slicing into Temple records,” she murmured. “I used both mine and Skyguy’s comm frequencies, bounced it about three hundred times across the galaxy, and encrypted the data about sixteen times. The files were large, and took forever to decrypt, but it was worth it.”

“You’re a slicer. I can’t say I’m surprised,” Kenobi grinned from the far corner, leaning against a column. Anakin came from behind him, looking tired but satisfied, and the aura of post-sex confidence radiated off the both of them like a drug.

Ventress turned back to Ahsoka, grinning. “I would _love_ to help you pack.”

The two girls immediately fled the vicinity, the two boys looking at each other as if they were saying, _What did I say?_

The two girls switched into the Twi’lek language, rambling on about nothing. It was nice, Ahsoka figured.

“So, what’s the Temple like nowadays?”

Ahsoka looked up at Ventress, the icy blue eyes of the Darksider almost vulnerable. It was as if the Nightsister was _begging_ her to tell her how awful it was, that she wasn’t missing anything, that leaving wasn’t a mistake. Even Sith, even Darksiders, had doubts. Ventress, though, had seemed so rooted in her Sith masters that there was no return for her.

“It’s alright,” Ahsoka murmured. “Empty. Everyone’s either dead or out on missions, save for the younglings. They push the Initiates to get Masters now, so many Padawans are taken at the age of ten or eleven, sometimes younger. They’re just _kids;_ they don’t need to be exposed to the war I’ve seen.” Ahsoka looked up. “That _we’ve_ seen.”

Ventress sighed, nodding. “I’m glad I left when I did.”

“Anger, Ventress, gets you nowhere in the long run. Not against the Council, not against the Seperatists. This galaxy will tear itself apart before a middle ground is reached; the Trade Federation would sooner cut off all funds to the Seperatist Alliance before making a deal with the Senate. You know that.”

Ventress nodded. “Unfortunately.”

A few hours later, Ahsoka and Ventress sat on the bed, sipping a cup of tea and reading articles to each other off their respective datapads, when Anakin came in.

“Snips, you ready?” he asked gently, his eyes tired.

“Yeah. Is Ronin already on the ship?” Ahsoka stood, lifting her final box off the ground.

“Kenobi helped me get her on board,” Anakin nodded, and with a murmured goodbye, she left the room, walking down the halls with her head held high but sadness in her heart.

When they were properly fueled, Anakin lifted the loading dock, easing into the pilot’s chair and taking a deep breath. “Buckle up, Snips. Taking off.”

With a nod, she strapped herself into a seat beside Ronin, holding her friend’s hand tightly as they took off, flying away from Mustafar and into hyperspace.

Anakin came out a few minutes later, looking defeated and tired, and sat across from Ahsoka, brushing Ronin’s hair back. “Skyguy?” she murmured.

“Yeah, Snips?” he asked, not looking at her.

“They say Mustafar is the place Jedi go to die,” she said softly. “Are we even still Jedi?”

It took Anakin a moment to answer; the images that flashed through his mind, the ache in his heart, all seemed to coincide into one place: _no._ Jedi were hopeful, Jedi were kind, Jedi didn’t have attachments. But here they were, abandoning the original mission of _Bring Kenobi’s head to the Council_ for a friend, for their attachment to the very people they were sent to hunt. They weren’t Sith. He doubted they were even Gray; they just _were,_ and he was okay with that, for now at least.

“I don’t think so, Snips. I don’t know anymore,” he murmured, eyes devastated. “I don’t know.”

Ahsoka reached across Ronin to grab his hand, her blue eyes gentle. “We’ll figure this out, Master. We always do.”

~*~*~

Ahsoka and Anakin returned to the Temple, some days later, and greeted by a concerned Mace, a terrified Quinlan, and a whole team of healers that whisked Ronin away to a room in the healer’s hall, the entire group following and ignoring the questions from Mace.

“What the hell happened, Skywalker?” Mace snarled, grabbing the Jedi by the shoulder.

Anakin whirled, smacking the hand off and shoving Mace by the chest. “Don’t touch me,” he muttered, and then followed Quinlan and Ahsoka into the room.

“Good stars,” Quinlan murmured, brushing her hair back. “She’s so strong. Look at her!”

A girl stood in the corner, her arms crossed, gray hair pulled back in a messy bun and her bangs hanging like spikes about her face. Anakin recognized her as Avalon, from the call a few days before. Her presence was carefully hidden, as if to not disturb the others in the room, and she seemed to make herself as small as possible.

“She’s so strong, Quin. You have no idea,” Ahsoka murmured.

It was silence for a few moments, Quinlan holding back tears. Avalon stepped forward and rested her gloved hand on his shoulder in a small gesture of kindness, and then faded into the background again.

When Anakin finally turned to face them, the look of _fear_ on Quinlan’s face was enough to bring some thought to the Jedi’s face. “Vos,” Anakin quietly said, hand on his shoulder, “worrying over her isn’t going to help her.”

The Kiffar whirled to face the Jedi, his brown eyes flashing a desperate gold. “I lost her once,” he snarled at Anakin, shoving him back. “I’m _not_ losing her again.”

The room went silent, and then Ahsoka quietly murmured, “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“ _Knew_ her?” Quinlan let out a bitter laugh, gently brushing his thumb over her forehead. “I was the only friend she had after everyone thought Obi-Wan died. He was her Master, after Mace refused to teach her.”

Anakin paused. The legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi was rampant when he was an Initiate and Padawan. The _Sithkiller,_ they called him. Anakin knew better than to assume that there was no more to that name. He knew firsthand that there was more to it.

“How many Masters did she have?” Ahsoka quietly asked.

“As a Jedi? Three, maybe four. Mace, Kenobi, and Qui-Gon, possibly Yoda for a brief time. She was masterless for a while, and the others called her Ronin.” Quinlan held back a sob, and then said, “A few years after she was asked to leave the Order, we were on Mandalore, dealing with the effects of the civil war there and working with Duchess Satine herself. There was a bombing, a building she was in was reduced to rubble. I searched for her for three weeks in that rubble, and I never found her.... And then I hear when I get back from Lothal that she was alive, that she had been living on _Coruscant_ right under our nose, and that she had _found_ Kenobi, and even helped the Republic apprehend him!”

Avalon had been silent most of this time, but now, she stepped forward, slipping an arm around the man’s waist. “Vos, we will get through this. She will live, do you understand me?”

Vos snorted, wiping tears from his eyes. “Yeah, I hear you. Just like I heard you with that _girl_ right before we left Lothal,” he winked.

The entire room groaned, and Avalon shoved him away. “Ass,” she snarled at him. With that, the girl slunk into the shadows of the ship, leaving the three Jedi with their wounded friend.

“What now?” Ahsoka asked.

Anakin looked to Quinlan, and then said, “Both of you are going to get some rest. Then we’ll figure out what to do next, what with the Gray Jedi and Ronin.” He looked down at his sleeping friend as the others nodded, leaving the room.

_Stars, Ronin. Where have you gone?_ He asked her, and he half-expected her to answer; but she didn’t, leaving his thoughts as silent as the days he was without her by his side. Like Ahsoka, he was attached to her; and, like Ahsoka, she wasn’t conventional.

If what Ronin said was true, about the two of them being apprentice and master.... He wouldn’t wish it any other way, if it had to be.

And if her life had the opportunity to be rewritten, he hoped she’d never change it either.

*~*~*

Somewhere deep in Ronin’s comatose state, she was acutely aware of the fact that she was reliving her past. Memories flashed before her, as if they were just happening. Some were terrifying, others weren’t. Some had happened, others were nightmares that, at the time, had seemed just as vivid as her day-to-day life.

This particular one, however, was _exceptionally_ painful.

 

_“Mariana Chayten, Padawan-learner!” The call was almost ignored, but the attention of the other_ Padawans in the class was enough for the white-haired girl to stand. In that particular class, like all her others, she was the only Padawan without a master. The others had taken to calling her Ronin behind her back, a masterless samurai. She supposed it had some merit, anyway.

She was whisked away by the Temple guard to the Council chambers, where she was told to wait. She did, obviously, and was acutely aware of how familiar she was with the lobby of this section of the Temple, and the pure irony of it. For some weeks now, after being discharged from the tutelage of Qui-Gon Jinn, her third official master, the Council had been deciding what to do with their rebellious, difficult, yet curious little Padawan. Today was the day she found her fate, it seemed.

She spun the ring on her middle finger, the two pieces of burnished durasteel effortlessly gliding across each other. Mariana was one of the few Jedi that had earthly possessions, but all of them were to deal with the anxiety and paranoia that came with her personality and, she hated to admit, her poor mental health. All of them, however, were made by her.

When she was called to enter the chambers, she did so, seeing a pale Qui-Gon Jinn standing with his back to her. He was still recovering, even though it had been a year since the Order lost the Sithkiller, and two since the fateful battle between Maul, Kenobi, and Jinn. Maul, though, had survived; much to everyone’s discontent, it seemed.

It had also been, she recalled, three standard weeks since Jinn had turned her over to the Council to be assigned a new Master.

“Mariana,” Mace Windu began, his eyes tired but his voice emotional. He had been her master too, at one point; but he had found her too strong-willed, too manipulative, too unstable to be his Padawan. His efforts to correct her had only made her worse, and though Jinn was a good Master, everyone knew she was just a middle child until he could get his hands on Anakin Skywalker. Her anger flared a bit, but she shoved it aside. It wasn't the boy's fault she was being treated this way.

Her golden eyes flitted to the young boy, now ten, standing in the corner, staring up at her in awe. Most of the Initiates had that look about themselves whenever she was around. After all, she was the one who was originally assigned to the Sithkiller after he was made a Knight. As far as the Initiates were concerned, Mari had heard, she was as much of a legend as Kenobi himself was. Maybe that was a good thing.

Mace finally gathered himself as he spoke, recovering from his bit of emotion. “I regret to be the one who tells you this, my dear, but the Council has reached a decision regarding your fate.”

Her shoulders slumped, and defeat swirled onto her face, partially masked by the sheets of white that served as her hair. “You’re kicking me out of the Order.”

It wasn’t a question. Mace knew that. Yoda knew that. They all did. It was what made her so special, the Council had figured. So intuitive. So full of potential. But she was, indeed, unreachable by normal methods of training and, Yoda had pointed out, if they accepted the proposal from Quinlan Vos to train this girl, it might have driven her from the Jedi anyway.

The look on Windu’s face told her that she was right. She nodded, but fell to her knees, her two lightsabers -- one Kenobi’s, one hers -- clinking on the marble floor. Tears streamed down her face, and in front of the whole Jedi Council, Mariana “Ronin” Chayten wept.

Qui-Gon slid to his knees, pulling her into an embrace. She weakly pushed him away after a bit, when her sadness turned to anger, but it didn’t bubble to the surface. “Why?” she asked, looking up through tear-filled gold eyes. “What did I do wrong?”

The room was silent as she sobbed, tears dropping onto the marble floor.

Yoda finally broke the silence, coming to sit down across from her. She looked up through scared, confused, angered eyes, and he grabbed her hand. “Nothing wrong, you did.” He turned to look at the rest of the council, and then he said, “But fit for the Jedi, you are not.”

“We will be giving you the same treatment as if you left of your own accord, Mariana. We are also giving you two standard weeks to gather your things, say goodbye to any friends you might have, and to say goodbye to Quinlan Vos.”

Her eyes lit up at the mention of Quinlan, a small smile on her face. “He’s back?”

Master Mundi nodded, a small smile on his face. “We called him back and gave him our decision. He should be landing within the hour. You’ll meet him at the hangar bay, but first....” Master Yoda drew his lightsaber, and Mariana closed her eyes as she felt the small _snip_ and the smell of burning hair.

Her braid was pressed into her hand, and she nodded. “So this is it.”

“I’m sorry, Mari,” Qui-Gon murmured.

Then, the anger bubbled to the surface.

She turned to him, her face stony. “Why? Everyone knows that you took me in because Obi-Wan would have wanted it; even _Mace_ couldn’t fix me! You took me in because of someone you cared about, but tossed me aside when your _original_ goal was accomplished.” She turned to Anakin, the small boy recoiling at the venom in her voice. “And you.... Well, Skywalker. May the Force be with you, whatever side you end up on.”

She stood and walked out of the room, her shoulders back and eyes narrowed.

But there, in the middle of the floor, was the two-foot-long Padawan braid that she’d spent the last six years of her life growing.

She did, indeed, meet Quinlan at the hangar. She did her best to hide her emotion from him, but the Jedi knew her far better than she realized. He draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her in close for a hug, and she took it numbly, her eyes cold and broken.

“When do you leave?” he finally asked her after a few hours of lewd comments in her quarters, the former Padawan packing her things.

“I was planning on leaving tonight. Nothing here for me anymore, except for you.” She shoved her clothes into her bags, the collection of credits she’d wrangled up from Quinlan at one point, and a few other items before the room was completely empty.

“I’ll take you drinking tonight, and then we can leave tomorrow,” Quinlan nodded, smiling at her.

“What?” Mariana asked, golden eyes wide.

Quinlan rolled his eyes, sitting up from his previously reclined position on the couch. “We’re going bar hopping, you’re getting laid, and I’m taking you back with me on a Sith hunt. You can stick around, if you want, or if something -- or someone -- strikes your fancy, away your little, fine punk ass goes.” He then stood, running his hands through her white hair, about three feet of it. “But first, all _this_ needs to go.”

“But I like my hair,” she whimpered, reflexively grabbing it away from Quinlan’s touch. His hand slipped to the back of her head, fisting a grip there, and she whined, going limp in his grip. A sly grin cut across his face, but he only picked her up and sat her on the kitchen’s counter. “Stay here,” he murmured, and she nodded. He let her go, the Kiffar’s yellow tattoos crinkling as he chuckled. “Good girl.”

“I hate you,” she hissed out.

“But you love it when I do that,” she heard him grin as he dug in her cabinets for a pair of scissors.

“Oh, Quinlan. You're not the only special one who does that to my hair,” the girl snapped at him, and he whistled.

“Has my dear protogé gotten some action in my absence, at the dear young age of sixteen?”

The girl flinched with each snip of the scissors, but she smiled anyway. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Quinlan snorted, but he fell silent as he worked, the one good thing about the man. He was a silent worker when he was focused, and it gave Mariana some time to think.

“Quinlan?”

“Yes, Mariana?”

“What if Obi-Wan isn't dead?”

Quinlan paused, dropping the latest chunk of her hair into the pile that was starting to form. “He’s dead, Mari. Let it go,” he murmured, and then got back to work.

She fell silent, though her thoughts didn't quiet. She was no longer a Jedi.... She could go looking for him. She _would_ go looking for him. But she would also follow the road with Quinlan. She trusted him. He was safe. With him, she could grow her saber skills as well as her tracking skills.

She was going to find Obi-Wan Kenobi, and no one was left in the galaxy that could stop her.

“There!” He announced, dropping the scissors onto the pile of long hair. Her head was pounds lighter, the breeze in the room tickling the back of her neck. “An undercut. You look _fabulous,_ must I say.”

“You _always_ think that, Quin,” she grunted, pushing herself off the chair to go look in the mirror.

“Maybe ‘cause it’s true,” he winked at her, and she ran her hands through her hair. She looked ages older, no longer an awkward child hidden behind sheets of hair. This was brave, this was bold. She could live like this. “So? Do you like it?”

She turned to him, a huge smile on her face. “I love it, Quin.” She wrapped him in a hug, squeezing the air from his lungs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, hugging Mariana back. “Let’s go.”

Quinlan was true to his word that night. With her fresh undercut, looking years older, the two went clubbing, and she remembered -- or more accurately, _didn't_ remember -- picking up a familiar face in Padme Amidala, waking up next to her the day after. There was a peacefulness with it, but when Mariana woke up, she started getting dressed almost immediately.

“Where are you going, love?” Padme had whispered to her as she pulled her boots on.

“I gotta go save the world, Senator,” Mariana replied with a wink.

“Wait!” Padme called to the retreating former Jedi. “What's your name?”

The girl paused at the door, hand on the pad to open it. “The people who know me the best call me Ronin,” she murmured. “I am, indeed, a former Jedi.... I left my comm number. If you ever need me, call me.”

With that, Mariana left the room, gold eyes blazing with a new determination, a new anger, and a new future.

 

The memory changed, fast forwarding a few years down the road. At this point she was still living with Quinlan, but their missions were often separate. This particular one had Ronin face-to-face with Duchess Satine on Mandalore, sitting at a fancy table.

 

“A former Jedi comes to me and requests knowledge of another Jedi, thought to be dead.” Satine stared the gold-eyed girl down, daring her to squirm. “Why do you come to me?”

“Because I’m looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's.... He's my former Master. When he died, I was thrust into a whirlwind of tutelage by other Masters that did not serve me well. I know, deep in my soul, that he is alive. I want him as my Master once again.” Ronin studied the Duchess, the woman’s expert makeup and heavy ceremonial wear of her Mandalorian people not fazing the former Jedi. If anything, it was an acute awareness of her former home. Satine, Ronin was acutely aware, was a Senator to the Republic, a skilled politician and master of a cool face. But Ronin had time to grow her craft, too, and the small change in the widening of the Duchess's eyes was enough. “He _is_ alive,” Ronin grinned, hope finally on her face. “ _I knew it._ ”

“Mariana Chayten,” a silken voice spoke behind her. She whirled, blue and gold sabers igniting in her hands. But there, in black and gold, was her former Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi,” Mariana grinned, relief over her face. “I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” She flung her arms over the former Jedi, only to notice that his stiffness wasn't just the way he was or the fact his lover was right there.

Ronin backed up, looking confused. _Something is wrong._ A sad smile met her gaze, and she followed the contour of his face up to his gold eyes. _Gold._ They had once been blue.

“ _Traitor,”_ she murmured, tears rolling down her face. She backed away, a sob leaving her throat. “ _You’re a traitor!”_

“Mariana--” He began, stepping towards her.

“ _No!”_ She snarled, shoving him away. “You're a Sith, aren't you? You fell from the Order? You _left me behind for the Sith!_ ”

Anger flared in Kenobi’s eyes, and he gave her the _look._ The look of a disappointed Master, a look she had grown to fear. The scared little girl in her told her to sit, to kneel, to just accept the present as it was; the Jedi in her told her just to obey her Master and call it done, just to obey him. But she was not that scared little girl anymore; she was no Jedi.

“I _trusted_ you. _Quinlan_ trusted you. What about Satine? Does she know?” Mariana whirled at the Duchess, who was sitting there uncomfortably. “You _knew.”_

_“Mariana,_ ” Obi-Wan snarled at her, and she turned, her gold eyes scared and confused. She watched his anger shatter into tiny pieces, sadness bubbling to the surface. “I never meant to lie to you. When you and I were chasing Sith with Quinlan, when we became.... Hazy, in terms of the Force, I realized that the Jedi were corrupt and I had to leave. I didn't realize that before I left, before I faked my death, I had already fallen.” He reached out a hand to comfort her, the man five years her senior, the man she _trusted_ , and she smacked it away.

“You want to see how I’ve grown? What Mace and Qui-Gon and Quinlan have taught me? _What you taught me?”_ She snarled, her anger flashing as Kenobi slowly backed up. His eyes were wide, as if he feared for his life…. Or the life of his lover. Instinctively, she reached for Satine, but the Sith was as in tune with that as Ronin was. Just as she reached out with the Force, Kenobi put a temporary block on her, shouting at Satine.

“Satine, get out of here,” Kenobi snarled at her, and the Duchess only nodded, leaving for the exit.

“So you protect _her,”_ Ronin snarled, her voice echoing in the halls after Kenobi released her. “But what about _me?_ ”

Mariana knew she wasn't strong enough to take on Kenobi. But she threw everything she had at him anyway, her mind shoving at his and chipping away at his defenses, the Force tight around his neck and body. She had him pinned effectively to the spot, slowly forcing her way into his mind just like he had taught her if they ever faced the Sith, and all at once, she ripped herself away.

“You taught me how to leave people breathless,” she snarled as Kenobi gasped, falling to his knees as he groaned for breath. He looked up at her with stunned eyes, but righteous fury burned behind them too. “You were my _teacher,_ Obi-Wan. I _loved you,”_ she choked out, tears streaming down her face. “You left me behind! I was kicked out of the Order because I was deemed unteachable! You _swore_ you'd always be there for me and you _left!”_

Kenobi finally gathered his breath enough to speak, his face tired as he sat back on his heels. “Mariana,” he murmured. He said it like it was a candy, savoring the taste. “I never, _ever_ , intended on leaving you. I wanted you to be a Jedi, like you always wanted. You wanted to be a Sithkiller, like me. I left you behind to chase your dream.” He looked away from her. “Now I see I made a grave mistake. I should have taken you with me.” He looked up at her, gold eyes defeated. “But you are so much more than I ever was, or ever could have been. How long have you been out of the Order?”

“Two, maybe three years. I don't know. I don't care.” Mariana's eyes narrowed dangerously. “You _left me.”_

A hand was extended to her, from the kneeling position Kenobi took. “Let me show you what I've learned. Let me _teach you_ , Mariana. I'm still your Master.... _Please_ , Mari.”

Somewhere in hindsight, Ronin knew he was tricking her again. But in the moment, the scared little girl only nodded, taking the outstretched hand. As he stood, he wrapped her in his arms, petting her hair.

 

And halfway across the galaxy, Ronin was acutely aware of Kenobi sobbing as the memory played for him too; and for whatever reason, she took some enjoyment in his pain.

~*~*~

Quinlan wasn’t the type to go out drinking to deal with his problems usually—

Ah, fuck it. Who was he kidding?

He sat in a Coruscanti bar, too lazy to go offworld when some of the best underground bars were on his home planet anyway, downing his sixteenth shot of the night. The liquor had stopped burning his throat, and by now he was past the point of just not caring. He was completely, utterly, plastered.

Bets were being placed as his competitor, a local barfly, narrowed his eyes in a drunken concentration, took the seventeenth and threw up, Quinlan smirking and relishing in his victory as he downed two more, just to rub it in, and counted out his cash.

“No other contenders?” the Jedi slurred, and called on the Force to stabilize himself—but not to cleanse. Not when he felt _this_ good.

“I will,” a familiar voice called out, and there sat Avalon, wincing as she sat down on a bar stool across from him.

“What are you doing here?” Quinlan asked.

She only shrugged, took down eighteen shots, shook her head, and drank a large glass of water. “You want to play, pretty boy? Let’s play.”

A bottle of scotch and Twi’lek liquor later, the two of them were glaring at each other, the Gray Jedi’s eyes as unfocused and dazed as Quinlan’s, and she looked significantly closer to passing out than him, but he knew better than to take it any further. “I’m done,” he muttered. “You win.”

“Oh, thank the stars,” she grunted, calling on the Force to detoxify herself. She shook her head, blinking away the bleariness. “I was seriously about to lose it.”

Quinlan groaned, and allowed Avalon to pocket the money she won, the girl hoisting him up and draping his arm across her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I don’t wanna,” he grumbled. “I can’t look Mariana in the eye.”

Avalon sighed, pulling her closer to him. “Quin, please.”

They managed to make it out of the bar and into an alley, where Quinlan had to stop to heave, puking out what little alcohol that he hadn’t digested already. “I can’t keep doing this, Ava,” he grunted. “I feel like I’m lying to myself, to the Jedi, to you, to Mariana. All of them.” He took a breath, steadying himself on the brick wall. “I finally understand how Kenobi felt when he left.”

“I’ve never met Darth Revis, or Kenobi, as you know him. I’ve heard _astonishing_ things, though. His oration skills are fantastic, he’s so well-poised and controlled. I even studied his speeches as a child, and modeled my own skills after him.” Avalon paused. “But this probably isn’t helping you.”

“It really isn’t,” Quinlan growled.

She only sighed, looking away from him as he threw up a second time, taking deep breaths to steady himself. “Look, Quin. Questioning who you are and who you align yourself with isn’t uncommon.”

“No attachments,” Quinlan snarled, and then rambled in a few other languages before returning to Basic. “It’s all bullshit. The Jedi are bullshit. My entire life has been spent fighting a war, and for what!” he snarled, punching the wall, then leaning against it again. Avalon looked on with mild surprise, only shown in the raising of her eyebrows. “All it’s added up to is another _fucking_ war, just like on that backwater planet Kenobi and I discovered about a decade ago.”

“You discovered an entire _planet?_ ” Avalon gaped, and Quinlan shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. Can’t remember the name of it, don’t really care to either. Completely backwards planet, couldn’t even deal with each other having different colored skin, or being gay, or being a different religion. It was fucking disgusting. Their language was primitive, but the leader of one of the countries was so fucking backwards—he built a wall! Around an entire fucking country!”

“That’s fucked up,” Avalon muttered. “I could see why you don’t want to go back.”

“Yeah, they launch stuff into space sometimes. Little gold discs, some bigger than others; dunno what they’re for. Probably means of communication with other species. They’re all really primitive. But that’s not the point!” Quinlan rambled. “All they did was kill each other and fight and swear and—” Quinlan finally broke down, tears streaming down the Kiffar’s face as he tried to rein it all in. “I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to see this,” he muttered.

“It’s actually interesting. I’ve never seen you like this before, so it’s quite intriguing. I don’t think this war will last any longer, anyway; I have some information that I’m waiting for the Council to trust me a bit before I deliver.”

“What kind of information?” Quinlan asked softly.

“The kind that could lead to the massacre of millions, if not billions, of people if we’re not careful,” she muttered. “You know of Galen Erso?”

“Isn’t he an up-and-coming engineer from some random planet?” Quinlan asked. “I’m not really in the loop with that.”

“Yeah, yeah he is,” she muttered. “He’s working on something big. A _planetkiller._ I don’t know who for, or why, but someone in the Senate has commissioned it. I’m here to figure out who, and _kill them._ ”

“Who won’t you kill,” Quinlan finally growled, standing straight. “You’re more of an assassin than a peacekeeper.”

She shrugged, shoving a canteen of water towards him. “Sometimes that’s what it takes, Quin. More so lately than any other time in recent history.” She returned to his side, slipping her arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you back to the Temple.”

It took her almost three hours to walk the delirious Jedi back to the temple, and another ten minutes to explain to the Temple Guard that he was, in fact, just fine, and just drunk, before the sobering Quinlan just snapped, “For kriff’s sake, just let us in. I’m cold.”

The Temple Guard exchanged glances and then allowed them to pass, the Gray hauling the Kiffar in with her. The Temple was silent, almost deserted; they rounded a corner, almost directly into Anakin Skywalker, the seemingly exhausted Jedi staring at them with conflicted eyes.

“What the hell happened to him?” a tired Anakin asked, deep purple bags in his eyes. His voice was tiredly sharp, almost daring, though Quinlan’s slowly sobering response to the Jedi’s tone eased Avalon’s concerns.

“Take a wild guess,” Avalon tiredly grunted, and the Jedi sighed.

“I’ll take him back to his quarters. I couldn’t sleep anyway; you’ve got a report to the Council in the morning,” he grunted, and Avalon gave him a look.

“Skywalker, _you’re_ on that Council,” she snapped.

“Your point? I’m on guard duty. Not supposed to leave Mari’s side,” he grunted. “Snips is with her now. I took a walk, maybe to get some caf, or to find a nice place to stab myself at.”

She scoffed at his poorly veiled joke, allowing the Jedi to take Quinlan from her. “See you in a few hours?” she asked.

The blond shrugged. “Maybe, if they find someone to relieve me. ‘Soka’s giving her report, too.”

Quinlan gripped Anakin with all his might, bruising the shoulders of the younger Jedi, but he didn’t mind, allowing the Jedi to take some of his frustrations out on him. It was partially his fault, anyway.

“So what’s he like?” Quinlan finally asked, brown eyes tired, as the codes were punched in to his room.

“Who? Kenobi?” Quinlan nodded, and Anakin shrugged. “He’s…” Anakin took a breath, waited for the door to shut, and then said, “He’s one _hell_ of a fine fuck.”

Quinlan snorted after staring at the Jedi in shock, shaking his head. “Don’t I know it. But other than that, Anakin. What’s he like?”

Anakin set him on the couch, the Kiffar scrubbing at his face, and then said, “He’s kinder than I expected. Incredibly domestic when you’re not fighting him, or when he’s not angry. He takes out his anger on himself before he does anyone else.”

“You slept with him, I know you did,” Quinlan muttered.

Anakin deflated a bit, his eyes shifting away from the Jedi. “Who told you?”

“I touched your saber,” Quinlan muttered. “The history of that thing is also your history, Skywalker, you know that. And you said he was a fine fuck, and I’m certain you don’t joke about such things.”

Anakin looked away, turning his back on the Kiffar.

“I won’t tell the Council.” Quinlan’s quiet admonishment seemed to fall on deaf ears, because the younger Knight didn’t respond. “I get it. I get what it’s like to be attached, to be in love, to want to _defy_ the Council with every fiber of your being. Skywalker, I am not your enemy.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Quin.” Anakin rubbed his neck, sighing. “I am twenty-four. Snips is a beautiful seventeen. I’m sure Avalon is about her age. Mariana is twenty-nine, maybe thirty. Quinlan, I am twenty-four, and I have _twins,_ ” he squeaked out, turning to see the shocked Jedi staring at him with wide eyes. “I had twins with Padme. They’re three years old, maybe four, I don’t remember-- but the point is, Quin, _I have them._ I should be parenting, not fighting this endless war!”

“I didn’t know you and the Senator had a thing,” Quinlan carefully said. “I was _hoping_ you did, of course; the tension between the two of you was unbearable, partially because you’re such an awkward flirter.” At Anakin’s annoyed glance, the Kiffar raised his hands. “What? You know it’s true!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to rub it in my face, Vos,” Anakin muttered.

Quinlan sighed, and then shook his head. “Does Mariana know? Or Ahsoka? They deserve to know.”

“Apparently after I stopped seeing Padme, she and Mariana had a thing shortly before she died. Mariana actually… takes care of them. They’re safe, I know where they are, and I know they’re safe, for now. But no, Ahsoka doesn’t know. Not yet. I plan on telling her, just…. Waiting for the right moment, I guess.” Anakin flopped on a stool, groaning. “I hate my life.”

“Want to go drinking tonight?” Vos asked, not even joking around.

“Vos, if I have to haul your sorry ass home like poor Avalon just did, I would _never_ go drinking with you again. And last I heard, your prized Padawan got Ahsoka _terribly_ drunk on Twi’lek liquor.”

“Does ‘Soka remember? Because Aayla told me about that. Apparently Ahsoka is _very—”_

“I don’t know if she remembers and I want no idea of what happened,” Anakin grumbled, looking away from Quinlan and stretching.

“Apparently,” Quinlan continued, ignoring the Jedi’s protest, “Ahsoka is _very_ good at gambling and slicing. Hacked her way into the deep Forbidden Archives, and to this _day,_ the Council still has no idea who did it.”

Anakin nodded, impressed. “I’m kind of proud.”

“I would be too,” Vos laughed, and the two of them grinned. This was easy, this was simple. Conversation between the two had once been difficult, but there was some sort of kinship between them now, some sort of doubt that neither could speak but were _very_ aware that it was present. But, as they both knew _very_ well, it could never stay this simple.

A knock came at the door, and an exhausted Avalon stood there, in some high-collar halter top and black skin-tight leather trousers, looking distraught but calm. “There has been a message,” she murmured. “From the Senate. Chancellor Vellorum has been placed under a Vote of No Confidence.”

Anakin sighed, and then shook his head. “Tell the Council I will prepare myself to head to the Senate in under an hour. A Jedi must be there.”

Avalon shook her head, gray hair falling about her face. “Master Windu wants you to stay here. He believes your purpose lies with Mariana. He and Master Yoda will go,” she murmured, averting her eyes. “I am to supervise you.”

“I do _not_ need supervision by a _child,_ ” Anakin grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Last I checked, Skywalker, you’re reckless, dangerous, and unstable,” Avalon snapped at him. “Get your ass out here— _before I make you._ ”

“ _Excuse you?_ ’” Anakin growled, anger flaring. “You do _not_ have the damned _right—”_

“Anakin,” Quinlan muttered, stopping the Jedi. “You’ve been baited.”

Anakin looked between the two of them, the cocky grin on the girl’s face pissing him off even more. “Bitch,” he growled.

“Whore,” she smiled back. “You are really as easy to fuck with as Quinlan said. This will be fun.”

Anakin shoved past her, storming down the hall and out of sight. “Go follow him,” Quinlan muttered. “I need to sleep. I’ll find you when I wake up.”

The girl nodded, closing the door behind her and rushing down the hallways after the fuming Jedi, whose look of sheer fury sent even the Temple Guards even uneasily slipping away. It all dissolved, though, when he saw Ahsoka sitting next to Ronin, the Togruta’s eyes tired and her body nearly limp.

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she replied to his curious expression. “It’s not like it’s nothing we’re not used to. Also, the healers said they might have been able to restore some of her sight. They’re not sure, but she might be able to see shapes and colors. They didn’t really seem certain, though.”

“Ahsoka,” he murmured. “Go to bed. Please. I can take it from here. But yes, that’s good news.”

Avalon stood outside the door, watching silently with a stoic expression. Ahsoka glared at her, then stood, presumably to follow her orders, and left the room, fists clenched at her sides.

Avalon entered, but stood in the corner, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Her arms and exposed skin were covered in tattoos, pieces of art scattered about her skin in black ink, some similar to Maul’s tattoos once upon a time, others . “She seems like a piece of work,” the Gray muttered, brushing her gray hair out of her eyes.  

“I wouldn’t have her any other way.” Anakin pressed a cool cloth to Ronin’s head, his face distressed. “I don’t understand. Her injuries are almost healed; she should have woken up by now.”

“How many days has she been like this?” Avalon asked softly, as if she were aware this was a sensitive topic.

“Ten,” he murmured. “She was healed by… _unconventional means—”_

“Nightsister magic, yes, I know. It follows her, waiting.” Anakin stared at her, blue eyes clashing against hers. “What?” She asked, surprised. “I studied it.”

“For someone so young, you sure do retain a lot of information,” Anakin mused. “If the Jedi had someone like you, this war would be over.”

“You did,” she bluntly snorted. “His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He helped _start_ this war.”

Anakin huffed in response, staring at his friend. “I suppose you’re right.”

Silence fell over them, and then Avalon hummed, staring at him. “How old were you when he left the Order?”

“Eight,” Anakin muttered. “Ronin left two years later. She was fifteen, I was ten. Qui-Gon died when I was fifteen. I was under Master Windu for a while, I guess; bounced from master to master. I was told I wasn’t the only one who did that, either; I took my trials about four times before I passed them. I eventually ended up under the wing of Master Unduli for a few months, and she helped me pass them when I was eighteen. Luminara was just a fresh Knight at the time, though, like I was. She didn’t officially train me, just enough to get me through the trials.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Avalon asked, her blue eyes narrowed.

“Because you’re going to ask anyway. My past is what seems to connect this entire story, Avalon, but I don’t know why.” Anakin ran his hands through his hair, resting his chin on Ronin’s shoulder, eyes studying her in her sleep.

Avalon paused, and then she stepped out of the corner, muttering, “Obi-Wan Kenobi murdered my family. It was the first thing he was required to do as a Sith. I was taken in, then, by my master, Lors Tekka, and I became obsessed with my studies. Many Gray Jedi are more like monks than warriors… they’re more like your Librarians than you, basically. They believe that studying the Force will help bring balance to it, searching for the Chosen One’s true balance will bring balance to it.” Her eyes settled on him, watching his shock bloom. “Some of them don’t believe you’re the Chosen One. My opinion is irrelevant; I am a soldier. I follow orders, not question them.”

He huffed, staring at her with a type of fury that seemed not really directed at her. She rolled her eyes, moving on. “We do have protection, though, because our home is in the kyber temples on Jedha. I served with them for a time, learning combat from the best of them before I went on missions. I have assassinated Senators. I have stolen holocrons. I have tracked down Boba Fett and given him everything he needs to be whom he will become.” Avalon nodded at him. “I met Padme, once. She was a lovely woman. I cared deeply for her. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Anakin shrugged. “She died when I was twenty-one.”

Avalon only nodded, returning to her corner, when Ronin stirred. Her hand squeezed his, lightly, and her forehead furrowed. She groaned, her other hand rubbing at her face.

“Avalon, get a healer,” Anakin murmured, and the Gray Jedi nodded, scampering off and returning moments later.

With the healer and Anakin at her side, the former Jedi opened her eyes, blinking away the shock of the bright white lights above her.

“Well,” she muttered, “that sucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)   
> sorry for the relatively boring chapter? it's also shorter than usual. but whatever, fillers.   
> go yell at me on tumblr; find me at stxnesandshadxws or sabeanwren!!


	7. { s e v e n }

The flurry of people in and out of Ronin’s recovery room in the quietest wing of the Temple was blinding to Anakin, and he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to Ronin. Some people shook her hand. Others asked her questions about her life outside the Order, about surviving on the _outside_ with awe in their eyes and kindness in their voice _._ She didn’t really answer any of their questions; they were just tired back-and-forths of “yes sirs” or “it wasn’t easy”, just sleepy exclamations and scrubbing at her eyes as the partial return of sight only bothered her further than Anakin thought she wanted to admit. The stream of people finally ended after what seemed like forever, and she leaned back against her bed, groaning. “I was _really_ hoping I wouldn’t wake up, man.” Her voice was quiet, broken, almost stripped of the pride and love she once held.

“Why?” Anakin asked, patting her hand.

“I wanted to stay with my mother,” she breathed, and then scrubbed at her eyes again, groaning in her frustrations. “Why did they _have_ to fuck with my vision?”

“It was a side effect,” Avalon murmured from the door, her tired blue eyes washed an icy white from the light. “I’m certain it wasn’t intentional.”

Ronin paused, closing her eyes, and then furrowed her eyebrows, as if focusing her energies to decipher the new presence as the Gray Jedi crept to the bedside of the former Sith. “Avalon,” she murmured, “you’re still alive! Where’s Lors? Where’s—”

“Shh,” Avalon murmured, rubbing a gentle circle onto Ronin’s forehead with a gloved thumb. “He’s okay. We’re okay. He sent me here to find you.”

“He isn’t doing well, Avalon,” she murmured. “I can feel it in my soul, in my heart.”

Avalon only nodded, biting her lip. “I know.”

Mace Windu knocked at the door, pausing as he saw the small crowd around Mariana, the three friends shielding her from his sight. “I know I’m not really welcome,” he murmured, and Ahsoka curled her lip, glaring at him.

“Damn straight,” she muttered, but Anakin’s hand resting on her shoulder stopped her from doing much else.

“Watch your mouth, Knight Tano,” he snapped back, and then his face softened. “Mari, I want to speak with you.”

“I’m tired,” she replied almost immediately. “Maybe come back later.”

“Mari, please,” he reasoned, stepping forward, but Anakin moved in his way. “Skywalker. _Move,”_ the Jedi Master hissed out, but Anakin shook his head, not moving.

“No,” he growled, staring him straight in the eye as the Master stepped up to stand toe-to-toe with the younger blond.

“Are you _trying_ to get kicked off the Council? Step aside,” Windu snarled, and finally, an exasperated sigh from Mariana broke the silence and the standoff between the two experienced Jedi, slicing the tension.

“Let him through, Anakin. I know him better than you think I do,” she muttered, and the trio stepped away, allowing him access to the white-haired girl on the bed. She’d let the healers shave the dyed ends of her hair off, considering the natural color was nearly four inches long now, and she looked older, more tired, than the silvery scar across her eyes allowed.

“Can you three please leave?” she muttered to a questioning look from Windu.

“We’ll be right outside. Call if you need us,” Avalon muttered, taking Anakin’s mechanical hand in hers and practically dragging him away from the bedside of his beloved friend. Ahsoka silently followed, casting one last dark look to Windu before stepping into the hall.

“You’d think I’d done something more than punish them for breaking protocol,” Windu muttered, groaning, as he settled on a wooden chair in the corner, head in his hands.

“Anakin is incredibly protective. His time with Kenobi only heightened that.” Mariana’s hand rested on his, her golden eyes resting on his. “You look so much _older._ ”

He laughed, the stoic Jedi grinning at his former Padawan, but that too faded under the façade of a Jedi who had it together. “Watching you leave was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, you know,” he muttered, and Mariana tilted her head on her pillow, snorting.

“No, no it wasn’t. I think it was listening to my mother when she told you not to come after her until she gave the word,” Mariana muttered, and then to his surprised glance, continued, “I… I spoke to her. She told me everything, everything you’d done for me. You shouldn’t have, Mace.”

“You really should call me Master Windu, Chayten,” he grunted stiffly.

“But you’re more than that. You’re family. I understand why you never told me,” she muttered, then paused, scrubbing at her eyes again. “I don’t hold it against you.”

Silence fell, and then Mace sighed. “Three standard weeks ago, I came back from a mission in Geonosian airspace. We’d been ambushed; Depa and I barely made it out alive. Depa is my Padawan,” he amended to her curious glance. “The first in a long while.”

“Good for you, really, Mace,” she smiled. “I’m glad. I’m glad you lived, too. Anakin is too, just…. Don’t take his callous anger for a personal vendetta, though it probably is knowing him.”

Mace nodded, then shook his head. “If you had told me you were struggling with the Dark Side, Mari, I wouldn’t have supported your exile.”

She squeezed his hand. “You see, Luminara and I had more than just our rebellious nature in common. We both believe in the Cosmic Force, and I want you to know this: I believe that what happened to me was going to happen, no matter how we tried to change or stop it. I believe I was destined to fall, to become a weapon and a companion, and I also believe I was destined to be here. I, though, don’t intend to stay.”

“What? But this is your home,” he rambled, looking away. “This is your _family._ ”

She smiled at him and closed her eyes. “No, Master Windu. My family stands outside that door, ready to impale you with five different sabers at my call. I will return to the Gray Jedi Temple with Avalon once she leaves. Master Lors Tekka has requested my presence, and I believe a visit is long overdue.”

Mace sighed, nodding, his hand tight in hers. “The Council does wish to speak to you once you’re healthy. We have… A gift, I should say, before you leave.”

She nodded. “I will see if I am well enough to stand tomorrow. If so, I will inform the Council. Not, however, Anakin. He’ll chain me to the bed if I even _think_ about doing that.”

Mace nodded. “I worry about him. His attachment to you, to everyone he’s close to, it’s damaging to him as a Jedi.”

She shrugged. “Think about his life, Mace. He was a slave. He watched his mother get beaten every day to force him to comply; he worked his fingers until they were bloody for whomever his owner was, just so she might live. But, when he was eight, he was shipped off to the Jedi Temple, where he was tested by a bunch of stiff, callous, annoying old farts that refused to believe in him, that refused him the compassion and love he deserved. He began to learn that the only person he could trust was Qui-Gon, who fought for him every step of the way. After that, well, Qui-Gon died. He was forced from Master to Master until he was ready for his trials. And little by little, Mace, the block you put on him that very first day to hide his attachments to Kenobi, to all of us, it’s breaking, and he’s too old, too powerful, for you to change anything about it.” She opened her eyes, and then sighed. “Send them in on your way out.”

Stunned, Mace stood, walking numbly to the door and opening it, muttering something along the lines of “she wants to talk to you” and walked away, face an ashen mask of what his usual skin looked like.

“What did you tell him?” Ahsoka asked, and the former Sith grinned.

“I told him the truth, and for the first time, I think that old geezer finally listened to me,” she chuckled, and then nodded for the lights to be turned off, slipping herself into a pure, dreamless rest.

~*~*~

“Come on, children,” Kenobi sing-songed, dragging a chain of prisoners into Dooku’s palace. The prisoners did not move, and Kenobi turned, his black and gold tunic the only seemingly synthetic thing on the lush homeworld of Count Dooku. “What? Are you _scared?”_

“That tends to happen when you’re captured by a madman with a red blade,” the youngest of them, a girl of about seventeen, snapped. Hazel eyes, dyed purple hair—the textbook case of a rebel.

Guards finally spilled down the steps, Kenobi standing over this girl despite her being taller. He raised a hand to strike her, back of his hand snapping her head to the side as fury and retaliation burned in her eyes, but she made no outward sign of aggression. It seemed, he noticed, she knew she was outmatched. “Watch your mouth, _child_ ,” he snarled, and then his eyes turned to the scratch on the paint of the ship that was, essentially, his child.

“Are you responsible for this?” he snarled, grabbing her by her hair and shoving her face towards it.

“The scratch?” She scoffed. “Even _I_ can tell that this scratch is old, Sith.”

Kenobi glared at her, releasing her with a shove. “Your attitude must be broken, child.”

“That’s what my former slave owners used to say,” she snapped back, spitting in his face. “Just before I killed them.”

Kenobi was about to roar a response, or to behead her – he would have been pleased with either – but Ventress’s soothing presence calmed him down a few notches.

“Revis, darling, do try to stop playing with your food,” Ventress called, walking down the steps to the group now surrounded by guards. “They’re waiting for you inside.”  

“I highly doubt that,” Kenobi grunted, turning his back on the prisoners and slipping inside with Ventress on his hip.

“For once, they really are,” she muttered, and he rolled his eyes.

 “Sure.”

Ventress growled, shoving him against a pillar in the elegant lobby. “Dammit, Kenobi,” she snarled. “You’re worse than Skywalker. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Do _not_ ,” Kenobi growled, “speak his name.”

The Sith began walking away, and the Nightsister, her rage a furious shade of red on her face, shouted after him. “If you ignore this, you’re no better than them!”

The ginger froze, body rigid. “You don’t know what talking about, Ventress.”

 “The hell I don’t,” she snapped, and in a snarling instant, his hand lurched out, Force violent on his touch, and she felt her airways constricting. But she didn’t gag, nor did she beg. She only stared at him with fury, calling on the Force herself to contact her former master.

Surely enough, a moment later, Dooku came flying down the hallway, snarling. “Drop her, Revis.” When Kenobi only glared at her and didn’t move, rage fusing his bones in place, Dooku barked, “Revis! Now! Put her down!”

Kenobi didn’t release the Nightsister, whose hands had balled into fists to keep herself from lashing out, and Dooku shoved him in the shoulder, the younger Sith immediately dropping her.

“What is with you today?” Dooku snarled at him, the shorter, elder Sith glaring at him. “You’re defying _my orders! **Mine!**_ Don’t you know _respect?_ ” Dooku howled as Ventress slowly hauled herself off the floor, her eyes tired and bruises already forming around her throat.

“She is only alive because I wish her to be,” Kenobi snarled at him, golden eyes flaring at the blue of the Count. “I sheltered her from _your_ wrath. I took the brunt of _your_ torture, all so you two could be _civilized_ again. Do _not_ lecture me about _respect,_ for you have none, not for you, not for the Trade Federation, and not even for the Order!” Kenobi exploded, and the elder man shrunk away from him, shaking his head.

“Go take your anger out on someone your own size, Revis,” Dooku replied calmly, his eyes and voice even. “I can’t be bothered to even stoop to your level.”

Kenobi began a string of curses directed at the Count as he turned to head back down the hallway, but Dooku only froze, hands clenching at his sides.

“Revis. _Leave._ Get out of here before I kill you myself.” When Kenobi didn’t move, Dooku turned, fury in his gaze. _“Now.”_

Kenobi stared at him a moment more, then turned and walked back out to his scratched ship, Ventress at his heels.

“Don’t you know I don’t want to be around people right now?” He snarled at her as he found his way onto the loading dock.

“Don’t you know I worry that you’ll literally kill yourself one of these days?” Ventress shot back.

Kenobi paused, his shoulders that had seemed so tense now slumping, as if the fatigue and stress of the last two weeks finally caught up with him. “What?” He breathed softly, not turning around.

“Yes,” Ventress murmured, staring up at him. “Every time I look at you like it’s the last time, but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi…. You’re my brother. I can’t lose you.”

Kenobi turned to face her, the pain and suffering on her face enough to feel his heart break. But instead of running to her, instead of comforting her like every fiber of his body demanded, he simply stiffened his chin and gestured to the ship. “Come on, darling. We’re going to Coruscant.”

 

Kenobi and Ventress’ flight in had been tense, but she knew that her mentor wasn’t really one for _pep talks._ He sat, brooding, thinking, writing, studying; anything to keep his mind off the war that fought itself internally.

But the walk to the apartment had been better, and Kenobi was even smiling as he tapped in the keycode. But something threw him off, and his blade found his way into his hand, the red blade lighting up the room as he moved into it.

In the kitchen, a light was on. A girl stepped towards them, eyebrow raised, and Kenobi snarled, “Who are you? What do you want?”

She swallowed, her gaze even. “It’s not who I am that matters. I was sent here by my master, by yours, by the Jedi Council. I am a representative of the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have studied you my entire life. There is nothing you can do to harm me more than you already have.” She set her biscuit on the counter, and then nodded at Ventress. “Asajj. Ahsoka speaks highly of you.”

“Who are you?” Ventress immediately replied, and then the girl shrugged, hefting a saber in her hand and igniting it. The red blade shot forth, and in her other hand, a purple blade.

“My name is irrelevant,” she muttered. “But the both of you are outclassed, outmatched. Put your weapons down, and I will tell you what I have to say, and I will go peacefully and quietly.”

Kenobi did so, taking a breath. Ventress gave him an incredulous look, and then whispered, “Kenobi!”

“She’s right, Ventress. I know who she is. What do you want, Gray Jedi?”

She looked to Ventress, who looked panicked, but deactivated hers as well. The stranger followed suit, clipping them back onto her belt. “Well, now that was settled,” she grinned, taking another bite of the biscuit. “Really, Kenobi. I’m glad you remember me. After all, I owe you my life,” she smirked, stepping around him and studying him. “I must say, you really are _alive_ with the Force. Such a shame it’s burned so dark within you that you won’t settle for anything else. Ah, well.” She turned to Ventress, and tilted her head. “Conflict lies within you, Nightsister. I understand your pain, and the choice you’ll have to make isn’t much easier. I trust you’ll make the right one.”

She cracked her knuckles, eyes narrowing as she pulled her gloves on tighter. “My name is Avalon of Lothal. I was raised by Lors Tekka, my master, and he wishes for me to bring you a message.” She closed her eyes, and then spoke in rapid Sith, Kenobi paling.

“What? I don’t follow,” Ventress muttered.

“You should,” Kenobi muttered. “It’s the Rule of Two, but it’s altered. The Chosen One must retain balance in the Force, along with… With what?”

She said the word again, and then shook her head. “Loosely translates to _lover._ ”

Ventress immediately looked at him, her eyes wide. “So this brat shows up, gives an alteration to something we’ve lived by for _years,_ and we’re just supposed to accept it?”

“Enough, Ventress. I will meditate on it.” He looked her up and down. “I have orders to kill you, you know.”

“I know. That’s why this will stay between _you_ and _me,_ ” she muttered. “And Ventress.” Avalon shrugged, stretching. “Sidious has already gone through my head six times, and I’m not even his.”

“What were you doing with Sidious?” Kenobi asked, confused.

“Doing _your_ job, _Negotiator,_ ” she grinned. “After all, I learned from the master. Toodles, Kenobi, I’ll see you around.” She swung her jacket over her shoulder and left, softly closing the door behind her.

Stunned, Kenobi stood in silence, but Ventress growled, “What in the _shit_ was that?”

Kenobi moved towards the kitchen, finding a kettle on the stove and a few jars of tea leaves on the counter beside it, labeled _nettle, dandelion,_ and _oolong._

He only shook his head, eyes unfocused as the jars in his hands suddenly became very heavy. “I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, flopping on the couch. “Whatever.”

He went to his room, the bed neatly made and untouched, save for the slip of flimsi on the pillow, written in so archaic of Sith that even Sidious wouldn’t know.

_You are being watched. Come to me when you make up your mind. 2499-36-927. --A.L._

Kenobi shoved the slip into his boot, stripping and collapsing into the bed, exhausted.

But one thing haunted him, much like the blue eyes of the first child he was supposed to kill.

_Nettle: Extreme change of plans; dandelion: There is a mole, or a leak. Find it; oolong: Two can play this game._  

_What game, Avalon? What game?_ He muttered to himself. _What bloody game?_

 

When Kenobi awoke, Ventress was in the kitchen, attempting to make tea, when his gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her. “The water is too cool,” he murmured, directing her hand to the stove. “Leave it on a few more minutes. You want it to boil, but not a rolling boil. It brews the leaves at a slower pace and develops a richer flavor.”

“You and teas, Kenobi,” she muttered, but did as he said.

“Listen, about what happened at Dooku’s—” he began, but she raised a hand to cut him off.

“It’s not your fault, Kenobi. We’ve had some difficult times since they left. We’ve been left wondering who and what we are, where our allegiances lie—the Jedi seem to be good at doing that to people, it seems.”

“No,” he murmured. “Mariana’s unbreakable, undeniable trust in Skywalker did that. You and I both know she doesn’t trust _anyone._ ”

Ventress sighed and nodded, tugging on her longish hair. “I think I’m going to keep growing it out.”

“It looks good on you,” he smiled back, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “But you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” she muttered in response.

Kenobi pointed to his bedroom, eyebrow raised. “Go, Ventress.”

Wordlessly, the girl nodded, following the Sith’s instructions to his room where she softly shut the door, assumingly to sleep.

Kenobi picked up the hot water, pouring it over the leaves and watching the steam rise. In the past, the ginger Sith would have sat there and held the burning ceramic in his hands until he could no longer feel any pain, but today would not be that way.

He carried it to the coffee table, gently resting it next to his datapad, curling up in his favorite chair and pulling up an old epic he used to read as a young Jedi.

The tea was warm on his tongue, rich in flavor, and calming in his stomach; he felt warmed, all the way through, and he finally felt some form of peace return to him after so long without it. He opened himself to the Force, the light and the dark, and he felt out for Anakin, the sleeping Jedi still safe at the Temple. Beside him, though, was an alert Ronin, who felt his presence and warily flagged him over.

She let him in, and he did her; her voice was soft, her mind calm. _I was wondering when you were going to seek me out._

_You’re at the Temple. I’m not nearly suicidal enough to even bother,_ he muttered, and she seemed to be amused.

_They restored some of my sight. I wish they hadn’t; now all I get is blurry, colored shadows, and it hurts my brain._ She sighed, images of what she could see flashing through Kenobi’s mind. He saw what he assumed to be Anakin sprawled out on the bed beside her, his arm tight around her waist, as if he were afraid of losing her. _If you stick around much longer, he might wake up,_ she added. _I just got him to sleep. Nightmares again, and migraines. Whatever happened to him, Kenobi, in that Nexus, he isn’t winning._

Kenobi sighed through his nose and took a sip of tea. _I’ll see what I can do. Anakin falling is the last thing this war needs, the last thing the Force needs._

Mariana didn’t reply right away, sighing. _You do not know the damage we’ve done, Obi._

_Obi._

She hadn’t called him that in years.

Before his shock had subsided, she continued, almost rambling. _The Jedi are half-dead, Kenobi, and this was our purpose. This was our original intention, but the Sith cannot be in power. The galaxy will suffer more than it is now. You know that…. Don’t you?_

She seemed to be begging with him, as if the last two weeks lost in the Force had done her some good. He only rolled his eyes. _It doesn’t matter, Mari. Whatever’s happened has happened._

She hummed only in response and faded from his mind, her walls going up so high she hid herself and Anakin from him. He groaned, gulping down the rest of his tea and checking the time on his chrono. _07:50._

_It’s five somewhere,_ he grunted, and opened a bottle of vodka.

Two hours later, his comm buzzed, and the Sith lifted his head groggily past the out-of-focus empty bottle to the small disc that was angrily vibrating. He was, originally, going to ignore it, and take his drunk ass back to bed, but the flashing number on the small screen was not to be ignored.

He answered it, barely sitting up straight. “Kenobi,” he slurred, glaring at the disappointed image of Dooku.

_“Drunk? Already? Really, Revis.”_ Dooku’s blue hologram looked him up and down, and shook his head. _“So disappointing.”_

“I don’t exist to please you,” Kenobi snapped, and then shook his head, gathering himself. “What do you want, Dooku?”

_“Meet me on Jedha,”_ Dooku growled. _“We have a mission._ ”

Before Kenobi could argue, the elder Sith had terminated the comm, leaving the ginger to groan at his poor luck as he cleansed himself with the Force. _I feel terrible for Ventress, having to deal with his stuck-up ass all the time._ His eyes flicked to the bedroom door, where she was quietly sleeping, and sighed, leaving a note before he left the apartment, locking the door shut behind him.

~*~*~

Two Jedi circled each other, eyes stalking, sabers drifting across the sand floor of the training arena for a demonstration gone wrong. The room had been full of Masters and Padawan, even Luminara and Aayla, but they too had left, leaving only Ronin, Anakin, and Ahsoka, watching in a daze as green and purple sabers clashed once more.

For Mace, this was about his anger. It was about how his former Padawan was sitting _right there,_ watching him, when she should have seen this years ago; it was about how the young Knight in Ahsoka was too much like her Master for her own good; it was about how that damned Skywalker just _wouldn’t_ listen, and how much it _frustrated_ him. For a brief second, Mace wondered what the Jedi would be like if they _hadn’t_ toned down his emotions. In that brief second, he made a potentially fatal error that Quinlan Vos took _extreme_ care in exploiting.

But there Mace’s saber was, brown eyes flashing dangerously in the eyes of the elder, more experienced Jedi. With a roar, he shoved Vos back, opening himself completely to the Force regardless of what came to him, leaning on it as a support system. Quinlan matched him, strike for strike, the dreaded hair of the Jedi spinning about his face as he roared as the dialed-down blade of Windu burned his arm, leaving a red welt on his scarred, tanned skin.

For Quinlan, this was personal. It was about his pain, about Mari being alive, about Kenobi being alive—all of it, all of what he thought to be true, a lie. The girl he’d taken in, the beautiful warrior she’d supposedly become, gripping the hand of Anakin Skywalker when she walked because her vision was too bad to walk on her own. Ahsoka, though, was something else entirely. But the Force moved about them the same way it had him: darkly, waiting, stalking. They too knew what it was like to walk the line between the light and the dark, and for once, the selfish, unstable, dangerous Jedi didn’t feel so alone.

Quinlan stumbled, though, and Windu had him at saber point, the blazing purple dangerously close to his throat. “And that’s your head,” Windu grunted, but extended a hand to help the wheezing Jedi up.

Quinlan let out a huff, and then panted out, “I really was expecting a lightsaber up the ass, but, whatever.”

The silent trio snorted in the corner, and Windu’s look of quiet exasperation was more than the others could handle. Even Mariana grinned, clutching the sight stick in front of her. “Skywalker, Tano, if you think that’s so _funny,_ ” Mace growled, “you two get up here and spar.”

“She was laughing too!” Anakin protested, pointing at Mariana.

Offended, the girl punched Anakin’s shoulder, grinning. “I would _never_!”

“Chayten,” Mace called, and she turned her head in the direction of her former Master. “Get up here.”

“Master Windu, that’s probably not—” Quinlan began, but Mariana growled at him to silence him.

“I held my own against Kenobi. I was _trained_ by Kenobi, Vos. Shut your damn mouth, because I can do this.” She pushed herself up and cast her stick aside, letting it be caught by Ahsoka. She found the dials on her sabers, and turned it down, the black metal shining in her hands. “Who am I facing?” She asked, standing in the middle of the ring.

Mace ignited his saber, and her eyes widened. “Master Windu, I—”

“You were trained by Kenobi. He was easily the most talented warrior we had, Mariana. You can handle me, and you can handle Vos.”

Panic surged across the face of Vos, but when he glanced to the faces of Ahsoka and Anakin, they didn’t seem one bit worried for their friend. So the Kiffar took position and ignited his blade, eyes wide and worried.

“Don’t go easy on me, Vos,” Mariana grinned, detaching her staff. “I won’t need it.”

Mace and Quinlan circled her, the girl closing her eyes and waiting. Neither of her sabers were activated, but she stood, ready, and Anakin watched with growing anticipation, a grin on his face and Ahsoka’s just a mixture of awe and concern. Mace struck first, the girl igniting her blades faster than he expected, dancing out from under his strike and retaliating on an instinctual level, red blade slicing up at the Jedi’s face and green cutting low. Both were blocked, only to be countered as well. Quinlan played off Mace’s strike, but he was swept by the ankle of Mariana, the girl ducking at the same time to avoid a slice from the elder Jedi. Her green and red sabers danced around her, eyes shut as she crouched, waiting.

Quinlan came in next, angered by his sudden takedown, and she rolled out of the way, allowing the Kiffar to crash into Windu with a sly grin on her face.

“Dammit, Vos,” Mace growled as the two Jedi picked themselves up, brushing off. “You had _one job._ ”

“It’s easier to fight two people at once than just one,” Mariana said, standing and turning off her sabers. “You’re both eager to rush, eager to strike. It makes it easier for a Soresu practitioner to undermine your offense, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up hurting your partner more than the person you intended to.”

Mace turned to the two Jedi on the sidelines, clapping, and glared at them. “Did you know about this?” He snarled, and Anakin shrugged, allowing Ahsoka to reply.

“Well, I mean, she _did_ use that exact same sequence against us when we sparred the first time. It was Anakin and me against her, and we actually lasted longer than you two did.” Ahsoka paused, then sighed, “Not much longer, though.”

Windu sighed, shoving his saber back on his belt and storming out. The four watched him go, and then Mariana sighed, seeming to deflate. “Nothing I ever did was good enough for him, I guess.”

“Don’t say that, Ronin,” Ahsoka muttered, rising to pat her on the shoulder.

Mariana brushed off Ahsoka’s hand, shrugging. “I have a meeting in front of the Council. I’ll see you three there, yes?”

Without waiting for a reply, the girl swiftly left the room, her black clothes not the only oddity about her.

“What the hell happened to her, Skywalker?” Quinlan asked quietly, his voice gentle and broken.

The Jedi only shook his head, staring after his friend. “I don’t know, Vos. I don’t know.”

 

As it turned out, quite literally _everyone_ was there. Quinlan Vos was not looking forward to explaining himself to the Council, not about his mission on Lothal, not about anything, but Avalon, Ronin, Anakin, Quinlan, and Ahsoka found themselves face-to-face with the Jedi Council, looking like kicked puppies.

“The _five_ of you,” Mace growled out, “Had _everything_ planned out, and yet, you managed to go on and fuck up one _singular mission!”_  Angrily, Mace’s eyes turned to the trio, sighing. “And the three of you were unable to take on _one_ Sith! One!”

“Mind you, that _one Sith_ is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he wasn’t alone,” Anakin spat back. “Besides, when Mari got injured, it wasn’t exactly our priority to bust out of there with Obi-Wan Kenobi!”

“Oh, I don’t want to hear it. Then who was he with? Was it that…. _Darksider_ you mentioned?”

Anakin nodded, but his voice wasn’t as sure as his mind seemed to be. “Asajj Ventress was there, the Darksider Ahsoka and I encountered many times. She was once Dooku’s apprentice, but something tells me that he is no longer teaching her.”

Mace’s brown eyes were flinty, but he leaned back in his seat. “Do explain.”

Anakin nodded to Ahsoka. “I avoided the two of them as much as I could, and spent much of the time in meditation with Ronin or Ahsoka. She knows more than I do.”

_Say nothing of the training,_ he’d said before they walked in together. _Keep our stories straight. Then they can’t turn the other on us._

Ahsoka faltered for a moment, but began retelling the tale of the fight she had with Dooku. The Council sat, enraptured, as she spun the story. It was the same as she had told Anakin, only in more detail; Quinlan whistled in awe as she finished, and the entire Council turned and looked to Yoda.

“Intriguing, this is. Perhaps turned back to the Jedi, this Ventress can be.”

“Master Yoda, you can _not_ be serious!” Kit Fisto snapped, rolling his eyes. “The Sith have claimed her, and there is nothing we could do to bring her back in the first place.” The man turned his eyes to Skywalker, and then murmured, “What about Kenobi? What state does the man live in?”

Anakin closed his eyes and focused his mind on the memories he had, avoiding _those particular ones_ that made the still-fading marks on his body throb. “He’s... so _alive._ The Force is as strong with him as it is with any of you. Confidence exudes from him, but he’s also self-destructive.... Often I saw his hands bruised and bloodied, likely from hitting durasteel. He never raised a hand to me, or any of us, unless he had to. Ahsoka?”

She looked away. “He was eager to make us comfortable. He was so kind, there were several times I forgot he was supposed to be the enemy. When Anakin was taking care of Ronin, or meditating or something, I spent a lot of time trying to improve my lightsaber forms. He helped me significantly, especially in using and defending against Soresu. Our first night there, he made me food from my homeworld. His anger was never, ever directed at someone other than himself.” She paused, and then said, “Until he found that we’d been lying to him.”

“He is still in love with Ronin. It’s.... quite interesting to watch, really. She hates him, more than she hates herself, what she had been, et cetera, but he still loves her. True love, not.... Not the manipulation we expected from the Sith.” Ahsoka looked up after Anakin had finished speaking, her eyes wide. Ronin’s hand squeezed his in solidarity, but nothing more was said.

_Are you sure you--_

_Ahsoka. That didn’t mean anything._

She looked away from her former master, grumbling. _It did to him._

The room was silent, the Masters sitting in pained silence. “A problem, this poses,” Yoda murmured. “Changed, the Sith have; and change as well, must we.... Go to Lothal with Quinlan and Ahsoka, you must. The answer, you may find.”

“Are you sending us on _another_ mission? Ronin is still healing! I refuse to leave without her,” Anakin snarled. “And what about Avalon? It’s her home! She should come too!”

“Do not involve me in this,” the previously silent Gray Jedi sighed. “I leave for Jedha in the morning, and Ronin is coming with me.”

Anakin looked on in shock at the two girls, and Master Yoda hummed in response.

“Attachment, you have, Skywalker?”

The question was loaded, and the narrowed gaze of the old Grandmaster and the rest of the Council was enough to make the Knight squirm. His mind raced to find a way out of this, but the reassuring squeeze on his hand from Ahsoka only set his mind in stone. Change must come from within the Order, and his _love_ for Ronin was what had landed him there. He _loved_ her. Not like he had loved Padme, with nights spent in a heated embrace, but like he loved Ahsoka. If Quinlan could be a good Jedi even after pretty much completely disobeying the code, if he could produce as good of a Jedi as Aayla, then Skywalker could be attached.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I am. Because forming attachments is human, and I am human. I am mortal. I refuse to go through this life keeping everyone at an arm’s length. As Jedi, we are supposed to show _compassion,_ show _love,_ but when _attachment_ is brought into the equation, then it is deemed poor form and clouds our thoughts. But at the same time, if we didn’t have an attachment to this planet, to this galaxy and the people in it, we wouldn’t feel the need to protect them, to go to war to defend them.” Ahsoka gripped his hand tighter, and he thought that Quinlan was about to pass out he was so excited. “So, as a Jedi, if our duty is to protect and to keep the peace.... Then how can attachments be avoided?” He nodded to Luminara, who had only recently been added to the Council floor, and turning his gaze to Yoda again, he continued. “A good Jedi Master once told me that attachments are expected, and should not be frowned upon as long as you are willing to let them go when they are ready.”

The room was silent, and then Quinlan started loudly slow-clapping. “I have never been so turned on by a speech,” he murmured.

The entire room groaned.

“A point, Quinlan has. Elegant, that was, Skywalker.”

“Yes.... Indeed. Did you write that down first, or was that off the top of your head?” Mace pointed, and Ahsoka chuckled.

“Sir, all due respect, but this Temple is built on the ruins of a Sith temple. Corruption has been rampant in the Senate for hundreds of years; our natural enemy, the Sith, have returned. Our very own Mariana Chayten was once Sith, but no longer. If one can fall and rise back up, then the nature of the Sith have changed. If the Gray and Dark Jedi, through Avalon, have made themselves known, then we can only assume that they must have changed as well.” Ahsoka paused, and then stepped forward. “If the Jedi remain stagnant, we will be crushed. Change must come from within the Order, and if you refuse to enact that change...” Ahsoka’s eyes flitted, and Anakin could sense the turmoil within her, and finally, she gathered her courage, and spat out, “Then perhaps it’s time for a total change of leadership, peaceful or otherwise.” The Council murmured to each other at her statement, the eyes of many narrowed in a watchful gaze.

“Be careful where you tread, Tano,” Luminara carefully replied.

“No! I will not!” Ahsoka growled. “You know what the Initiates and Padawans say now? Now that they’ve seen war, seen bloodshed?” Anakin put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to slow her down, but she shook him off. “ _The Council is nothing but frail old men that forget what it’s like to actually lead,_ ” she snarled at them. “ _That_ is what your next generation thinks of you. All I ever wanted was to be a Jedi, since Master Plo found me and brought me here. Now, I’m not so sure.” She looked over the Council, and then she shook her head. “If you refuse to change, I will leave the Order. I cannot stand to watch such injustice and naivety from people I once considered righteous and wise.”

“And I with her,” Anakin immediately supported, and the shock on the Togruta girl’s face was enough.

“Anakin, you’re the Chosen One. You must remain with the Jedi,” Ahsoka smiled sadly.

“Snips,” Anakin smirked, “it doesn’t matter. Balance will never come if the Jedi are stagnant and the Sith take over. I may not know as much as my master Qui-Gon did, but he taught me a lot. He taught me a lot about the Force, about visions, about _trusting yourself_ because one day, you may be the only one who will. I believe that day has come.” Anakin turned to Quinlan. “What’s your stance?”

“I dunno, man, I’m not exactly the perfect Jedi--”

“None of us are.” Luminara stood from her seat, and came to stand beside Anakin. “I stand with them. I once told Obi-Wan Kenobi the exact same thing, and we all know what happened to him. He was our _friend_ , the best Jedi we had ever seen. He fell because of _our_ stagnation, his frustration with it. The Council did nothing to help him.... Now, we change.” The Mirialan's green hand found Skywalker’s, and she squeezed it gently, even if the cybernetics couldn't sense it.

Quinlan shrugged, saying, “Ah, what the hell.” He draped his arm over Luminara, who promptly stepped on his foot, but the Jedi didn’t move, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Steel-toed boots, darling,” he grinned, but she elbowed him in the groin, the panicked and pained face of the Kiffar rousing equally pained but amused looks from the other male Jedi.

“He deserved that,” Luminara muttered, and Quinlan nodded from his kneeling position on the ground.

“Yep, yeah, I did,” he groaned, and the entirety of the Council only shook their heads in annoyance.

“I don’t really know if my vote counts, but I was once a Jedi, so I’m going to say this: you seriously need to fix this system,” Ronin sighed, placing her hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

“And I as well,” Avalon muttered. “But I’m certain my vote doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t,” Mace shot back. He groaned, sighing. “Follow orders, for now. The Council will discuss what’s next. However….” His brown eyes flicked to Mariana, who pointed a finger at her as he rose to his feet and drew his saber. “Fourteen years ago today, the Council made a decision to knight a Padawan, but let that Padawan believe that they had been expelled from the Order. We would then officially induct that said Padawan into the Order, fully, if they so intended to come back.”

The rest of the Council stood, and Mariana looked around in pure shock, knowing it was about her. “Are you serious?”

“Mariana Chayten, accept this offer, do you; come back into the Order, you will, and reach the title of Jedi Knight?” Yoda asked, eyes tired, but yet he persisted.

Mariana paused, her eyes tired, then sighed. “I will not return to the Order.”

Shock seemed to resonate through the Council. “Why not?” Luminara asked quietly.

The former Sith shook her head. “My alleigances, my very soul, rests on my attatchments to the people I love. I will not fight a war for a corrupt Senate, not when a Sith Lord runs amongst them…. My heart belongs to me, as does my life.” She lifted her head, eyes narrowed. “I will not be your slave.”

Mace nodded, letting loose a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “So be it. Dismissed.”

The five summoned nodded, but only four left the room, leaving Ahsoka to stand awkwardly in front of the Council.

“Snips?” Anakin asked, coming back to stand beside her.

She shrugged off his hand, the young Knight staring at the floor as she shook her head in defiance. “No, Skyguy. I’ve thought long and hard about this.”

“What are you trying to say, Tano?” Mace growled, and she heard Quinlan, Avalon, and Mariana hesitate behind her.

“I’m leaving the Jedi Order.”

Ahsoka’s sudden announcement in the middle of a debriefing with the Council was shocking, but only because of the timing. Ronin gripped her shoulder, and Anakin only pressed his lips together. He couldn’t say he was surprised; in all honesty, he was close behind her.

“Are you sure, Knight Tano?” Luminara asked, her eyes soft.

“Yes.” The reply was short, swift, and concrete; she had made her decision. “I can’t stand watching the Council I once loved, full of people I once believed knew everything and were the wisest, to stand for such obvious tyranny in the Senate. It makes you just as corrupt as them.”

All eyes flicked to Ronin, who rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I didn’t teach her that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Ahsoka looked up, her eyes as guarded as stone. “Obi-Wan Kenobi did. I was just too naïve to see it.”

Gasps of surprise came from the council, but the other two in the trio weren’t surprised. “May the Force be with you, Ahsoka,” Anakin murmured.

She promptly left the room, returning to her quarters to pack her few things. She hadn’t been in there since she left for Mustafar, she knew that much; she’d spent her nights at the bedside of Ronin in the healing chambers, or with Anakin, spending time talking about ways to get out of this nasty situation. Three months with Kenobi, and two weeks on her own; she’d had enough.

When Ahsoka opened the door, she found Barriss Offee sitting there, her hands folded in her lap. Ahsoka couldn’t recall when the MIA Jedi had returned, but she was certain it wasn’t anything good. “Oh, Ahsoka. I’m sorry for intruding, I—”

“What do you want.”

Barriss looked down. “You’ve been back for a while days now, and I came by to see if you got my message, but you clearly haven’t been back.”

“I haven’t. What’s this about?” She snapped, glaring at the Knight.

Barriss shrugged. “Maybe we could—look at Padawans together or something? I figured you’d take one soon, and I’m looking for another Mirilan to train—”

“Ask a Jedi,” Ahsoka snapped, shoving her clothes in her bags.

Silence fell in the room as the blue eyes of the healer found their way into the heart of what was on the table, her shock as obvious as her awkwardness. “You’ve left the Order.”

“Yep. Never looking back,” she laughed. “Can’t wait to leave this cesspool of corruption behind.”

“Oh.” The Knight stood, clasping her hands together. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave, then. Goodbye, Ahsoka Tano.”

Barriss left the room, gently shutting the door behind her. Ahsoka glared at the door, but felt some part of her heart break as she watched someone she once loved, trusted, and respected give up completely.

Ahsoka Tano had never felt so betrayed.

~*~*~

The next day, they were all heading to their ships, the five saying their goodbyes. Quinlan hugged Ronin a little harder than he should have, but the former Jedi didn’t mind, her arms closing around her friend.

“This will not be the last time you see me,” she murmured. “I swear it.”

“It better not be,” he muttered in reply, his eyes tense and tight. Mariana grinned up at him, and she poked his nose, the Kiffar yelping in surprise.

“See you later, Quinlan, Snips, Anakin,” she called to the group, and then followed the younger Gray Jedi up the ramp of the elegant ship, allowing the duo to take flight before the trio.

“How much you wanna bet Avalon will kill her before they get to Jedha?” Ahsoka asked, following Anakin up the docking bay of their ship.

“How much you wanna bet Quinlan and I are going to kill each other before we get to Lothal?” Anakin muttered in response as the Kiffar went prancing up the dock beside them, grinning.

“Come on, _ladies,_ ” he grinned. “I have this lovely little cantina and some _lovely_ girls I’d like you to meet.”

Anakin and Ahsoka exchanged looks, then groaned, taking off after everyone was situated.

~*~*~

It was a long, silent, tense flight between Mariana and Avalon, but when they landed, it was all smiles from the High Council that greeted Ronin like a friend. The former Sith was whisked away to the upper levels, probably to be given a welcoming party. A few stayed behind briefly to welcome Avalon back, but they, too, left, leaving her in silence in the foyer of the Temple, sand-colored rock climbing to great heights over her head and towards the sky. But her attention was to what lie below her, in the dark, damp limestone caverns under the Temple. And so, she turned on her heel, heading down the stairs to the caverns.

The cell holding chambers were a little bit more than what Avalon had remembered. They were once dark and dismal, dripping mineralized water from any possible crack in the wall. To be fair, they only kept one person down there anyway; only because he was too destructive to himself and the world around him to be placed in nicer holdings.

Avalon finally felt dry air down there for the first time, not chilling her sore joints to her core. Her back throbbed already, likely some dislocation; no matter. It would heal in time.

“You have returned,” the man muttered in his cell, now expanded to encompass about six others. He was shirtless, legs crossed under him, scribbling something on the wall facing the entrance.

“Temporarily,” Avalon grunted, casting blue eyes across the room. “You’ve upgraded.”

He laughed, cold, bitter, merciless. “So it would seem. I assume your Masters grew tired of treating my illnesses.”

“I’m sure. They’re pretty petty,” she grunted. “I came down here to ask you a question.”

“Questions that come from _you_ , young one, often lead to deceptions and lies. Are you sure it is me you wish to seek them from?”

She knew this man, knew who he was, what he’d done. Droid legs were folded neatly under him as he deliberately finished painting on the wall, the Sith script so ancient even the studious Avalon couldn’t remember.

“Yes. I trust you more than the others like you,” she replied, and then pulled her hood down, crouching in front of the gate. “I also brought you some bread. It’s not much, but it’s not stale.”

The man finally turned, red and black skin stretching with his movements as he settled to look at her, gold eyes piercing. “You, Avalon,” he muttered, “would have made a poor Sith.”

She rolled her eyes, sighing. “I seek peace, Maul, not totalitarian leaderships.”

He took the bread from her, careful not to touch the bare skin of the Gray Jedi, and tore into it, watching her, waiting for her question.

“What can you tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi?” she finally asked, and Maul almost choked on his food.

“That fool's still alive?” Maul laughed, then shook his head. “I cannot tell you much of Revis that you don’t already know, Master Avalon. I know you could potentially beat him in combat, if you don’t lose your hand in the process. Kenobi was well-trained by Qui-Gon Jinn, myself, and Darth Tyranus, once that old man came around.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want his motivations, I want his fears, I want every little detail even Skywalker will never know. You were his master. You _must_ know something.”

Maul finished his bread, watching her, and then shook his head. “Kenobi was bull-headed, strong, passionate. He wanted nothing more than to please me and the Sith of Old. He and that wretched weapon of his, that Mariana, they dug up old Nightsister blood magics. They mixed two practices that should have never been mixed. Whatever happened between Kenobi and Skywalker that you’re not telling me must be related to these rituals. I refused to have any part of them.”

“Kenobi was considered _radical,_ then?”

Maul snorted. “Kenobi is Kenobi. Dynamic, dangerous, deadly. Trained by a fearsome Jedi whom I had much respect for, and one whom often visited me during my early days here. And, honestly, Avalon,” Maul grunted, “I couldn’t care less about Kenobi. He let me be destroyed, let me fall from my Master's grace.”

“Would you seek revenge on him?” Avalon asked.

Maul looked at her, eyes unimpressed. Tests like this, she assumed, were not uncommon for the former Sith. He was no Gray Jedi, but he was no Sith. Change, it seemed, still had a firm grip on him. “Your silly tests, Avalon. Why don’t you just touch me like everyone else?”

“You know why,” she murmured.

He laughed, slamming his palms against his knees. “Ah, yes. Something about you _idolizing me_ or something.” He leaned towards her, feral smile glinting in the dim light. “I do not want revenge on him, no. I would have done the same to him. However, Avalon, your idolatry of him might interfere with whatever mission you’re on. Tread lightly, sister.”

“And silent steps, brother,” she murmured, reaching through the gate with a small charm in her hand.

“What’s this?” Maul asked, the little arrowed cross with a circle sitting in his hand. “An old symbol of masculinity?”

“Old religions say,” she began, retracting her hand, “that there is a divine feminine, and a divine masculine. This is their symbol for the latter…. Not that you need masculinity, Maul, but you like learning.”

She stood, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” he called to her.

She paused, not turning to look at him.

“When will I see you again?” he muttered. “You’re the only one who comes down here anymore. I might go insane without consistent conversation.”

“I don’t know,” Avalon finally murmured. “But I’ll find someone you can have an intelligent conversation with. I promise. Or, I’ll get you a dog.”

He groaned as she chuckled, heading up the stairs to find the entirety of the Protectors standing there, familiar faces in all of them. But first, there was Chirrut Imwe, and the assassin Baze, staring at her with narrowed eyes. She awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, ignoring the stabs of pain as she did so. “Um, hi,” she muttered, waving her hand as one by one, the group started cheering, Chirrut and Baze only grinning at her like excited children.

“The prodigal daughter returns!” Baze called, and she was swarmed by people, hugging her and patting her on the shoulder, all greeting her with the sense of familiarity that she didn’t know she missed.

“I have something to say,” she began, and the crowd quieted down, eyes on her as Baze lifted her onto his shoulders. “We, as a people, are at war.”

The room went silent.

“It’s not the kind of news you expected, I know,” she murmured. “Hell, it’s not at all what I hoped would happen. But my mission had changed. My mission, at first to bring down both the Jedi and the Sith if need be, became a choice I had to make, with my Master’s permission. We have sided on the side of the Republic, for now. The Dark Jedi have also decided that, due to the inexplicable feeling of something _very_ wrong on Coruscant, they are to honor our treaty, though will stay in the neutral systems. There is a Sith Lord in the Senate, my brothers, and we cannot let this continue.”

“Lies and deception!” A voice called from above, and there stood Dooku, eyes narrowed. “I found you, you little scared Gray. I found you and your people.”

Avalon shook her head as the entirety of the Protectors came to her defense, weapons trained on the singular Sith Lord. “This is not the place to have this discussion, Count.”

The elder man waved his hand, and down came Kenobi, holding one of the lead members of the Council in a headlock. He looked just _furious,_ but a calm sense of fury, with chaos swirling around him in a sickening, pulsing cloud. She never admired him more.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she called, and he curled his lip at her. “It seems we meet again. I owe you, so I will make a deal with you.”

Whispers erupted around the Protectors, and Dooku snorted. “We will not be negotiating with you, _girl._ ”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, so wait your _fucking_ turn,” Avalon snapped, the Count’s blue eyes widening in rage.

“You have no right to—”

Avalon glanced to him, and almost immediately, the look of shock came upon his face as his windpipe closed and she shoved a block on him, the elder man hissing in his rage. Her hands fisted at her sides, and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Kenobi looked on with a sense of curiosity, but demanded, “Let him go.”

Avalon shrugged, lifting her hand, and the Count followed. “You’re not the only one well-versed in the practices of the Sith, Revis, and you’re not the only one who can subdue even the strongest Force-users. I will never be as strong as you, no, but him,” she nodded, to the reddening face of the elder Sith, “he’s a plaything for both you and your Master…. Which makes him _my_ plaything.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Avalon continued. “Let the Minister go, and I’ll release Dooku. Leave Jedha, and never return, and we’ll consider it even for Coruscant. Deal?”

Kenobi’s shoulders slumped and he looked to the now unconscious, bluing Sith hovering a foot above the stone floor of the balcony. “Deal,” he grunted, and released the Minister.

Avalon released Dooku, and he thudded to the floor, a groan escaping the old man’s lips.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she muttered to Chirrut, who only shook his head, face pale.

They left, and as they left the atmosphere, the tension faded.

“That was the most reckless, irresponsible thing you’ve ever done, Avalon!” The Minister shouted from the balcony, and she raised an eyebrow at the dark-skinned man, rolling her eyes.

“You’re insufferable, Minister. I just saved your _life,_ or even better! Kenobi is not someone you want to trifle with, Minister, and I owed him a debt. I don’t like being in debt. The score is settled, and next time, I can’t say the same.” Avalon’s voice was tense, and Chirrut rested his hand on her bare shoulder.

“Please, Avalon,” he murmured. “The Force is moving darkly about us. Do not anger yourselves further.”

She sighed, her hands running through her hair and tugging at the ends. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Chirrut. We’ll be okay.”

And then, all at once, this sense of pure dread and loss settled over them.

Avalon gasped, taking a knee in the middle of the crowd. The small thread once golden in color that had connected her and her master had since faded to a dull gray, then was bluntly cut, leaving the teen gasping on the stone floor of the Temple.

Moments later, Ronin stood on the balcony above the crowd, and then murmured, “Lors Tekka has passed, and the Rites of Mourning have begun. We have three standard months to mourn, at the request of Grandmaster Tekka.”

With a broken sob, Avalon gripped the floor with her nails, sand-colored limestone shredding the pads of her fingers into scraps of bloody flesh, Chirrut backing the rest of the group away from her as he knelt beside her.

“Come here,” he murmured, setting his sight stick on the ground beside him as he sat down. She looked up to him, the calm, unseeing eyes of the Protector looking on with such love and kindness. “You’ve never done me wrong, not in all the years we’ve trusted each other. I trust you will find a way out of your grief and into the arms of the Force.” His arms reached for her, and she scooted beside him, Ronin descending the steps precariously and gently patting Avalon’s leg.

“Pain makes us grow, Avalon.” She tilted her head, then to Chirrut, she murmured, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Chirrut Imwe,” he muttered. “But I know who you are. Your reputation preceeds you, Navini.”

She flinched, and the entire room turned to look at her. “We literally _just_ threw out two Sith, and we might have to throw out a third?” the Minister grunted, and Baze hefted his blaster.

“Or I’ll just shoot her,” Baze growled, staring down the sights.

Ronin backed away from them slowly. “That won’t be necessary,” she muttered, eyes flicking to Avalon for help.

The Gray Jedi rose, leaving the comfort of her friend’s arms, and stood in front of Ronin, a solemn, quiet protest and protection of the woman. “I will not stand for this,” she muttered softly. “We are in a time of _mourning,_ not a time of soldiering on. We are at war, yes…. But Navini, or Ronin as I know her, is not our enemy. She is hunted by the Sith, hunted by the past she’s left behind.” She looked, tiredly, over the crowd with her shattered blue eyes, hoping her pain and loss was pouring out over them. “I lost a friend today. I am not losing another one.”

Slowly, the group came up to apologize, and Ronin shied away from the touches of the Protectors. By the time they were done, Avalon had grabbed her hand, sending calming emotions to the woman. _You need to follow me,_ she murmured, and Ronin nodded, allowing the Gray Jedi to lead her down the stairs to the dungeon.

When they hit the base stair, the former Sith froze, eyes wide. Avalon felt her probing with the Force, and her face went pale, shaking her head. _No._

“Come on,” Avalon murmured, and the white-haired woman took the girl’s hand, leading her to the Sith she had once feared and hated so much.

The Zabrak’s head lifted at the presence of two women he knew well, and he turned, sitting cross-legged and shirtless in front of the gate doors. “Mariana Chayten,” he murmured, studying her. “My, how you’ve matured. How are your eyes? That looks like it hurt.”

With a roar, she lunged at the gate, but the former Sith wasn’t in reach, the woman snarling at him instead. “You are a _menace._ You should be _dead,_ like how you were when I left you!”

“Ronin,” Avalon breathed, hand on the woman’s shoulder. “He’s no threat.”

“I’ll believe that when he’s dead and burned,” she snarled, gold eyes flashing.

Maul tsk’d, his face a smug smirk. “You say you’re not Sith, Mari, but yet, there is still so much hate and rage in you. I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re the type that belonged on the Dark Side, aren’t you.”

“Oh, you _wish_ I was full of _just_ that,” she snarled at him, but Avalon pulled her back, the former Sith skidding back on the stone floor.

“What the hell! I had that!” Ronin snapped, and the Gray Jedi glared at her.

“Maul has been in our custody since I was seven,” Avalon growled. “I’d think I know him _very_ well.”

“Avalon, you don’t know what he’s capable of,” Ronin warned as she picked herself up. “I’ve _been_ in his head, I’ve been trained by him, I’ve seen what he’s done. You’ve seen him from the other end of a cage. You think he’s reformed, but Maul is too dedicated to the Sith to even _think_ about reforming.”

“You’re the one who mixed Nightsister magics and the Force, Mari. You didn’t _know_ what you were playing with, like a child,” Maul snarled, leaning up against the bars of the cell. “It clings to you, haunts you, like your Jedi attachments once did! Even _Skywalker_ is a better Jedi than you would ever be!”

“Anakin was trained by the best man I could _ever_ ask for!” Mariana howled back, Avalon suddenly realizing that, in her grief, bringing Mariana and Maul into the same room together was probably the worst decision she’d made in a while, but she was also being entertained whilst getting information. She, ultimately, decided to back into the shadows and watch the ordeal.

“Jinn was weak, was _foolish,_ like Tyranus, like Kenobi, like _you,_ ” Maul snarled back. “He was a poor Jedi, just like you would have been.”

Mari stood taller, eyes narrowed, and one of the lamps in Maul’s cell exploded into sparks, the man flinching away from it. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, Maul,” she snarled, eyes narrowed. “I fooled the entire Jedi Council. I have the Chosen One wrapped around my finger, and with him, half the Jedi Order. I could pull the plug on either the Jedi or Sidious and I would _win._ ”

“And I,” Avalon finally spoke, “have the Gray Jedi and the Dark Jedi under a forced treaty. I have Sidious on a hesitantly trusting relationship with me. I have Quinlan Vos on my side. Between you and I, Mariana, we could reunite this entire galaxy.”

Maul looked between the two girls, eyebrows raised. “I’m impressed, Avalon. I really am. I thought this was just a ploy to get more information, but no…. you’ve been hatching a plan,” Maul sing-songed, crossing his arms. “I want in.”

“Can you _not_ kill Skywalker?” Both the girls grunted, and he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I _suppose,_ ” he muttered.

“You may die in the process,” Avalon muttered.

Maul looked around, then shrugged. “Better than being in captivity for the rest of my life.”

Mariana grinned, her anger subsiding into cunning, devilish planning. “We’re going to take over the galaxy.”

“Yes,” Avalon grinned, “yes we are.”

And Maul, for a brief second, thought he saw the golden eyes of a Sith flicker in the blue irises of Avalon, but kept his observation to himself. A small smile flickered onto his face; the taste of revenge already on his tongue.

_I’m coming for you, Skywalker,_ he cheerfully thought, and let the girls leave, turning away to the sparking lamp. He waited until they were gone, then a malicious laugh left his throat, the former Sith finally getting the freedom he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* that happened.   
> A lot happened, actually. I can't wait to write Kenobi when he snaps... it's gonna be fun. Also, I apologize for the slowing updates. School, life, I'm a loser, take your pick. (I was also put on sleeping medication, so I don't have as many working hours.... :|)   
> Go yell/talk to me on Tumblr! Find me at my side (Star Wars) blog, sabeanwren, or my main blog, stxnesandshadxws!


	8. { e i g h t }

_“What are we even looking for?”_ Anakin muttered, trudging around Lothal with Ahsoka looking like she really wished she wasn’t signed up for this all the way through to the end and Quinlan bouncing around, eyes following the more attractive girls about the streets.

Quinlan paused, then sighed. “Hell if I know, Skywalker. I spent a whole damned year on this planet, and not once did I find the answer to our problems.”

Ahsoka had been worriedly silent. The Council had not stopped her upon her request to continue the mission, due to being assigned it, but was to be under heavy supervision by Skywalker and Vos. They really should have considered who they were dealing with before assigning the two most non-traditional Jedi in the Order to keep an eye on the Togruta.

“Snips?” Anakin asked, pulling the quiet girl from her reverie. “You’re scaring me.”

“I think we’re looking for a Sith temple,” she muttered, and then pointed her hand towards the fields. “I sense something dark out there.”

Anakin and Quinlan exchanged looks, and then sighed. “Okay, granted it _is_ a Sith temple, how are we going to open it? Only a Sith can,” Anakin muttered, and the Togruta lifted her head, blue eyes flashing with determination.

“I can.”

“No,” Quinlan immediately said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I will _not_ lose another Jedi to the Sith.”

“I’m no Jedi,” she muttered in response, and then sighed. “And if you two dingbats were paying attention, you would have noticed that we were being followed and are now surrounded.”

The street had gone eerily quiet, Anakin noticed, and he almost feared turning around until he felt a blaster in his back. “Dammit, Snips, couldn’t say anything sooner?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “ _You’re_ the Jedi. You’re supposed to notice this stuff.”

They were, in fact, surrounded. The people that had surrounded them were all masked, some Mandalorian in fashion, others unidentifiable.

“Hand over your weapons, Jedi,” the one behind Anakin muttered, jabbing him in the spine.

“You don’t want our weapons,” Anakin muttered, waving his hand.

An irriated sigh came from most of the group, as if they all rolled their eyes in unison. “Please don’t make this harder on yourselves than you have to. We’re only here to escort you to our Mistress.”

_Mistress?_ Anakin mouthed to Quinlan and Ahsoka. They both shrugged, confused, but Snips shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s ride this one out.”

Anakin and Quinlan nodded, both setting their sabers on the ground in the little group they had formed. The sabers, then, were then gathered and put in a leather bag on one of the Mandalorians’ backs.

They walked, quietly, through the darkening streets of Lothal before approaching a warehouse, seemingly abandoned, in a part of town that the trio _really_ didn’t want to be in. The door was opened, and the three were escorted in and shooed up to a point in the dirt floors.

“Skywalker, Tano,” called a voice, and from the shadows, stalked Asajj Ventress, eyes grinning but her voice carefully cold, calculated. She drew up to the group, investigating Quinlan, and then hissed, “ _Jedi companion.”_

“Woof,” Quinlan muttered, and Ahsoka stomped on his foot.

“Long time no see, Ventress,” Anakin snarled, playing with Ventress’s cold shell. This was business, _Sith_ business, and she was probably being watched by more than just Kenobi.

“Really, Skywalker. It’s only been, what, three weeks?” She lifted his jaw, inspecting his neck, and nodded. “You heal up nicely.” She stalked towards Ahsoka, and the two shared a look of raw compainionship, of pure loneliness, before it was returned to the strict order. “Tano, you look _dreadfully_ hobbled. What have your lovely Jedi done to you this time?”

“I’m no Jedi,” Snips snarled back, and the shock that registered from Ventress was _not_ feigned.

“Oh, dear, that’s a problem,” Ventress growled, before looking Quinlan up and down. “And who are you?”

“Quinlan Vos, my lady,” he winked, grabbing her hand before Anakin or Ahsoka could stop him, and attempting to kiss her knuckles.

That hand turned into a closed fist, punching the Jedi Master clear across the face with a stubborn left hook, leaving the Kiffar grinning as he spat out blood.

“I like you,” he grinned, then lifted his head, eyeing her. “Hands off the merchandise, I get it.”

Ventress bristled up to her full height, though it wasn’t near the elder Kiffar’s. “I am not a _slave,_ nor a whore. Skywalker, I thought you had your pets under control,” she snarled, though didn’t break menacing eye contact with Quinlan.

“Quinlan is a different breed,” Anakin sighed, then shook his head. “Asajj, what’s this about?”

“Shut it, Skywalker,” she snarled, and then she and Ahsoka exchanged looks. “Do you still have it?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answered right away. “It never leaves my side.”

Ventress nodded, and then paused, tilting her head as if listening, and then looked at Anakin with a panicked gaze. “Maul is alive. Kenobi feels it in his bones, and I do as well. The Force is stirring in a way I don’t like.”

“That’s what this is about?” Vos gaped, staring at Anakin and Ventress. “We’re working with a _Darksider?_ ”

“Quinlan, she’s literally going to stab you if you don’t shut up,” Ahsoka grunted, then stared at Ventress. “You need someone to fool him.”

“No,” Ventress muttered. “I’m outside the Seps now. I’m being hunted by them, like I was by Dooku. Kenobi has done what he can, but I need to get into Republic airspace—or, neutral airspace.”

“You need _us?_ ” Anakin asked, eyes narrowed. “No offense, Ventress, but that sounds fake.”

The Nightsister sighed, tapping her foot in annoyance. “Yes, Skywalker, I need your damned help! And you need a Darksider, it seems,” she growled.

“We’re looking for a Sith temple. We believe the answer to the war may be inside one,” Ahsoka muttered, and Quinlan gaped at the former Jedi, eyes wide.

“I trust Ventress,” Ahsoka amended to them. “She hasn’t lied to me, ever. She’s prideful, arrogant, and annoying,” Ventress scoffed at that, “but I trust her. With my life.”

“How touching,” Ventress murmured, then turned to Quinlan. “You need two Sith to open a Sith temple. Master and apprentice. Now, the Force doesn’t really care if you’ve got a bond or not, so that’s good for us, but it is often easier.”

“I’ll do it,” Ahsoka murmured. “I’ll do it with you, Ventress.”

“Absolutely not,” Quinlan snarled, and then looked to Skywalker. “Talk her out of it. Please.”

Anakin’s shoulders slumped, shaking his head. “I can’t. Unfortunately I taught her to do what she believes is the right thing, and if this is it…. I won’t stop her.”

“You’ll have to commit to the task, fully,” Ventress warned. “It could turn you completely if you’re not careful.”

“I don’t care,” Ahsoka murmured. “I want this war to end…. And I’ll use any means necessary to get there, if I have to.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes, Snips,” Anakin murmured, his hands clenching at his sides.

The Togruta paused, stepping forward and taking Ventress’ hand. “Then it’s a Sith I’ll be.”

“Ahsoka,” the Nightsister murmured in shock, a rare moment of tenderness from the hardass woman. “Are you—Are you sure? I know that’s a huge step for you.”

“Don’t ask me that question until after I’ve done it,” she muttered in response, gripping Ventress’ hand.

“So we’re doing this, then?” Quinlan asked. “You two will open the Sith temple, then what?”

Ventress waved her hand, and the trio’s lightsabers were returned to them. “Stay by my side. Don’t venture off… Lest you become prey for the spirits that lie within.”

“Like Traya?” Anakin murmured.

Ventress hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, like Traya. Kenobi told me about what happened. I’m impressed you lived.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?” Quinlan asked, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Did you fuck this Traya? _And_ Kenobi? Dude. You’re adventurous but I never thought—”

“Quinlan, please stop talking,” Anakin hissed, giving Ventress the look of approval to explain.

“What I was told,” Ventress began, “was that shit went sideways in more ways than one for Anakin and Kenobi, and Skywalker, the damned idiot he is, ran straight into the Temple we had set up in the location. Kenobi’s… into some pretty dark stuff, and Anakin stumbled right into a blood magic ritual mixed with the power in the Dark Side. Traya was pleased with fresh meat, and, well, it wasn’t pretty.” Ventress looked Quinlan up and down, and then sighed. “As much as Kenobi would _love_ to hear me say this, I’m glad you’re alright, Skywalker. It’d be different without knowing you weren’t on the other side of that battlefield.”

“Likewise,” Anakin smirked, and the two clasped hands.

“Sith Temple?” Ahsoka asked.

Ventress shook her head. “No. It’s late, any movement at night is monitored by the local enforcement authorities. It’s easier moving during the day anyway; easier to get by security with the crowds of people.”

“Asajj Ventress, a creature of the night, requiring we move during the day?” Anakin gasped, feigning shock as they grouped up and headed for the back of the warehouse. “I’m shocked!”

A heavy punch greeted his shoulder with an annoyed groan. “You _had_ to ruin the moment, Skywalker.”

He grinned, a normal, shit-eating grin, and for the first time in weeks, he saw Ahsoka smile a true, genuine smile. He relaxed into Quinlan’s side, the Kiffar man looking at him in shock, then he too relaxed. This was easy. This was home.

Well, not quite home.

Home was half a galaxy away, but he chose not to think about it. Quinlan draped an arm around the Jedi, gripping his shoulder, and raised a loud, lewd toast, the group roaring in laughter as they too raised their drinks and went bottoms up.

~*~*~

_Darth Revis stared calmly, too calmly, at the Jedi before him, the chained Force-user staring at_ him in silence.

“Master Eeth Koth,” Kenobi finally muttered. “How _intrigued_ I was when I found Grevious had brought me a Jedi. Little did I know it was you.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Eeth responded, staring evenly at him. “I thought you were dead.”

“Lots of people did,” Revis grinned, staring at the Jedi with a malicious gaze. “I know Mariana returned. How does she fare?”

“Like you _care,_ ” the Jedi muttered, eyes tightening with buried rage and suspicion.

Kenobi’s fingers danced along the edge of the blade in his hand, black obsidian glinting in the dim light. “You see, Eeth,” Kenobi muttered, standing, “I belong to a _special_ brand of Sith. We are far more dedicated to our practice, to our religion, if you will, than the average Sith. So, we combined an even darker, more brutal form of worship with ours.” Kenobi grinned, squatting down and teasing the edge of the blade along the immaculate jawline of the Zabrak. “I bet you can guess what that practice is.”

“ _Nightsister magic,_ ” the Jedi growled, yanking his jaw away.

“Yes, indeed, it is,” Kenobi chirped, lighting up in a gleeful grin. “I specifically mean their _blood magic_ rituals. The Sith of Old really seem to enjoy the physical sacrifices I give them.”

“You’re _sick,_ ” Koth snapped, straining against the chains. “You’re sick, Kenobi, and you need help.”

“Help? _Help?_ ” Kenobi laughed, manic insanity dancing behind golden eyes. “I am in _no need_ of Jedi help, Master Koth, not in the way you think. But, if you’re so willing….” The Sith’s eyes flicked to the Jedi, humming. “I _do_ need your help. What will you do for me? To bring me back to the Council, I mean?”

“Anything,” Koth responded, tossing his black hair out of his eyes.

“Anything?” Kenobi grinned, and then squatted down, eye level with the Jedi once more. Hesitantly, Koth nodded, and Kenobi reached out a hand, slowly, and pressed it against the Zabrak master’s head. “That’s it. Relax…. You know, my first Sith master was also of your race,” Kenobi murmured, prodding at the Jedi’s defenses. “His name, you may recall, was _Darth Maul._ ”

That’s it. The distraction.

Kenobi wormed his way through that small crack in the iron-clad defense, grinning as he did so. The Jedi, though, yelped in pain, pulling away from the pale ginger’s hand; the damage had been done, however, and Kenobi only grinned, only sifting through the Jedi’s face consciousness.

“Ah yes,” Kenobi grinned, lifting the Jedi’s agonized face at the chin with the tip of the knife, “you can help me, _very much._ ”

The Jedi whimpered, Kenobi watching as the fight slowly died from his eyes.

They sat there, staring at each other, until Kenobi had established dominance; and then the Sith pulled away completely, the Jedi gasping at the force of it as his defenses immediately went up again. “What kind of monster are you?” Koth asked, breathless.

Kenobi smirked, and then growled, “The worst kind.”

All at once, the Sith charged the Jedi’s defenses, shoving his way through them and locking the master in a fierce grip, shattering his will and maybe, even, Kenobi figured, his very personality; Master Koth, however, passed out completely, his forehead striking the duracrete floor, Kenobi standing and looking down at him with a passive look. “Pity. Thought you’d help me, Eeth.”

Kenobi stepped out of the cage, locking the door behind him, and looked at Dooku, who only stared at him with a contempt. “What?” Kenobi asked, making a face.

“You have no respect, for _anyone,_ ” Dooku snarled at him, and Kenobi rolled his eyes.

“Oh, _please,_ ” he grunted. “I was respectful!”

Dooku only scoffed, turning his back to the younger Sith and walking towards the rest of the cells. “Your favorite prisoner has been asking for you.”

“Excuse me?” Kenobi asked, confused, and Dooku stopped in front of the young, purple-haired girl that had been there at _least_ a standard week.

She stared up at him, eyes tired, and then looked to Dooku. “Leave us. Please.”

“I don’t take orders from _children,_ ” Dooku snapped.

“And I have no respect?” Kenobi scoffed, smirking.

“Watch yourself, Revis,” Dooku growled, cold gaze falling across the Sith’s face. “I grow tired of your shenanigans with your _Jedi_ friends.”

“But _Daaaad,_ ” Kenobi whined, making a pouty face. The girl snorted, and Dooku sent both of them a _livid_ glare before stalking off.

“He’s gonna try to kill you one day,” the girl murmured after she could no longer hear Dooku’s footsteps.

“He can try,” Kenobi muttered, crouching in front of the girl on the other side of the cell. “Why did you request my presence?”

“I figured if I was gonna die here, y’know, I would like to request that you honor my burial wishes,” the girl sighed, then sat cross-legged, wincing as the iron cuffs dug into her skin.

“Why do you think you’re going to die?” Kenobi asked, tilting his head. “Maybe I enjoy your company.”

The girl laughed, throwing her head back against the wall she was chained to. “Ah, Kenobi,” she murmured, staring at him with the same kind look that Mariana once gave him. “I am only a realist. I don’t think I’ll get out of here.”

Kenobi stared at her, long and hard, and then sighed. “How old are you?”

“Like, my actual age, or the one I tell everyone?” she dryly retorted.

“Your actual age,” he murmured.

“Seventeen,” she shrugged, looking around. “That’s okay, though. The people I was traveling with were good people. I saw a lotta things. My momma would be proud, if she even cared.” She stared at the ceiling, then chuckled. “I saw the sky all the colors imaginable. I saw and learned every star constellation I could.” She turned to look at him, smiling. “I’d be okay with dyin’, I think.”

“You’re so young,” he murmured, pity in his gaze.

“Nah, nah, nah, don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “I don’t want your pity, Kenobi. You proper people, you were always looking down on us poorer people. You left us out to dry.” She leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowed. “People like you killed my family.” Kenobi stared in mild horror, then waved his hand. Her cuffs dropped to her lap, and she looked up in shock at him. “What’re you doin’, Kenobi?”

“When I walk away,” he growled, “you can make a break for it down the south passage. Don’t let Dooku catch you; he’ll kill you in an instant, without hesitation, without mercy.” Kenobi stood, watching her with an even gaze. “Don’t let me down.”

The girl nodded, and when Kenobi walked away, she slid out of the cell and down the hall, the same way Kenobi had told her. He walked up to the balcony, staring out over the south lawn as dusk settled to night, and the girl flitted from bush to bush, her weapons and armor in hand. A few droids were silently dismantled, a black, glowing blade in the girl’s hand; she turned, grinned at him, and raised the blade. In the faint distance, even Kenobi could tell what it was as she fled into the dense forest.

Kenobi grinned, then headed inside for the night.

As it turned out, the Sith couldn’t sleep. It had happened like that, he knew, when he was _unsatisfied_ with his results.

Kenobi, then, decided to do something about it.

So he sat, across from Eeth Koth once more, watching as the Jedi slowly came to proper cognitive function. The Master blinked in shock, fear, and worry at the Sith sitting cross-legged from him, eating an apple. “I’m impressed,” Kenobi began, grinning. “You recovered faster than I anticipated.”

“How long have you been sitting there?” Eeth growled, fatigue clear in his voice.

“Oh, only about an hour. I had other things to deal with than to just watch you drool,” Kenobi chirped. “After all, I _do_ have a war to win.”

“Kenobi, I know there’s still good in you,” Eeth began, but Dooku’s howl of rage as he came down the stairs to the dungeon cut him off. Kenobi turned, annoyed, towards the Sith Lord.

“What do you want?” Kenobi hissed, eyes narrowed.

“That _girl,_ that bounty hunter _you let go!_ ” Dooku snarled, and then tossed a hilt at him, the piece of metal clattering against the bars of the cell. Kenobi stooped to pick it up, igniting the blade; the famed blade of the Darksaber ignited in his hand, the Sith gaping at it. “How _marvelous,_ ” Kenobi murmured, grinning at it.

“She’s dead, Revis, I killed her myself,” Dooku snarled, rage burning on the normally stoic man’s face.

Kenobi paused, the tip of the darksaber dropping to the cell’s floor.

“Revis, what have you to say for yourself?” Dooku snarled back, through the door.

“Get out of my sight,” Kenobi hissed, knuckles turning white as his nails dug bloody gouges into his palms.

“You have no right—”

Kenobi leveled the tip of the saber at Dooku’s throat, even through the bars of the cell, eyes furious. _“Get. Out.”_

Dooku stubbornly refused to move, eyes carefully guarded. “You’re jealous of me.”

“If you keep talking, I will _personally_ sew your mouth shut and break you like a fucking dog,” Kenobi snarled back, eyes wild.

“But Sidious—”

“ _Sidious be damned!_ I am not a means to an end, I am not expendable, not like you, _Tyranus,_ ” Kenobi snarled, pushing at the Sith Lord’s shields as the tip of the saber came dangerously close to the throat of the elder. “I am _wanted._ My work is _appreciated._ You are just a figurehead, a blip on the radar. Now, _get out of my sight!_ ”

Dooku stared evenly at him, then took one solemn step back before stalking up the stairs and vanishing from the Sith’s sight. Kenobi turned to the Jedi, who had since scrambled as far back away from Kenobi as he could, a furious expression on his face.

“If there was any light in me,” Kenobi snarled, shoving past the Jedi’s shields with ease, “it just died.”

The next three days Kenobi spent in Eeth Koth’s head, _breaking_ him, destroying everything that made that Jedi a Jedi, leaving him a drooling, mumbling, psychotic mess, and it _still_ wasn’t enough. He wanted _more._ More Jedi, more _slaves_ like Koth was about to be, more power—fuck Skywalker, Kenobi had decided. The Sith were more important. Bringing this ridiculous, long war to an end was more important.

In a rage, Kenobi punched the brick wall beside him; the limestone cut his knuckles, but he didn’t care. The pain fueled his rage, beating that same hand into the wall until specks of his tendons and bones could be seen through the flesh; then he only switched hands, beating the wall with a drooling, broken, _shattered_ Jedi beside him, blankly staring up at his new master in a dreamless sleep.

Normally, he realized, Ventress or Ronin would have been there to stop his rage, to stop the _pain_ that he’d seen, that he’d caused.

Avalon’s face flashed before him, both the shattered toddler that he couldn’t bring himself to strike down and the angered teenager, so much stronger, so much _prouder_ than what he thought she’d become. That was a woman, not a child, who could rule a galaxy. She could rule _this_ galaxy, he decided, and could rule fairly.

“Lord Revis,” a small voice said, and with a roared, _“What!”_   he turned to face the small servant girl, one of the _few_ living servants Dooku owned, who flinched away from the Sith’s outburst. She gulped, then began with a stuttering whimper, “I—um, if this is a bad time—”

Kenobi pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he gathered himself. “ _What._ Is it.”

“You have a comm,” she finally muttered. “From Lady Navini.”

Kenobi’s head lifted immediately, the rage seeping out of him in an instant. “Are you sure? Are you sure it’s her?”

The servant nodded, seemingly relaxing as the anger visibly subsided. “Yessir. She has a girl with her. They wish to discuss….” The girl scrunched her nose, rambled a few words in her native language which Kenobi didn’t understand, and then said, “I think the translation is plans? I’m not sure.”

Kenobi blankly nodded, allowing the girl to lead him to an abandoned stairwell. Once there, she turned to grin at him, and he gave her a blank look. “What?”

The girl lifted her hand to pull at her hairline, and purple locks fell forth with a wink. “Hello, Kenobi.”

Kenobi stared, stunned, at her, as she grinned, a small smile on her lips. “How did you--? Dooku said he’d killed you!”

The girl only shook her head and smiled, patting Kenobi’s cheek. “Not all Sith’re free from manipulation from the old Mandalorian tricks for Jedi. Your friend in Dooku more so than most.”

“So, you tricked Dooku? You…” He followed her eyes to the darksaber on his hip, and then he wordlessly dropped it in her outstretched hand. “The last time I saw that….”

“Duchess Satine, yes, I’m aware,” the girl grinned, and then shook her head. “I remember you, Kenobi; how is it you don’t remember me?”

Kenobi shook his head. “I met a lot of people, little one.”

The girl grinned even wider. “I’m one of Satine’s handmaiden’s children. I was always around you when I was small.”

His mind flicked to the small boy he’d once met, named Romar, that once ran around the palace with Satine and him and had _always_ favored dresses and things deemed more feminine.

“Romar?” Kenobi breathed, eyes wide. “You’ve gotten….”

“Save it, Kenobi,” she grinned. “I need to get off this planet, and you’re my only ride.”

Kenobi shook his head, grinning. “Satine would be proud of you,” he sighed, and she grinned, flipping up the hood of her borrowed cloak.

“I know.” She playfully swatted him in the chest, and then grinned. “Let’s go, big guy. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

“Everyone?” Kenobi questioned, and when they managed to dart out into the courtyard with Kenobi’s ship, he saw quite literally _everyone_ he’d brought in with her. “Oh, _everyone._ ”

“Scared?” Romar winked, and the Sith only shook his head.

“You may have the darksaber, but it doesn’t mean you can use it.”

The girl only grinned, and Kenobi dropped the loading dock. One by one, the various bounty hunters and assassins walked up the ramp, Romar’s smiling face the only solace they seemed to have.

“They trust you,” Kenobi observed.

She nodded. “Like Ventress trusts you.”

Kenobi was the last one up the ship’s dock, taking off shortly after. “Where to?” He asked, flipping switches and easing up on the yoke of the ship.

“Jedha,” Romar immediately responded.

“That’s where I _captured_ all of you,” Kenobi muttered. “That’s probably the first place Dooku would look for you.”

“Just take us there, Kenobi,” she growled, dropping down in the copilot’s seat.

The Sith scoffed, setting the coordinates and making the jump.

The ship sat in absolute silence for a good three hours until Romar stood, shaking her head. “You’re another breed of Sith, Kenobi.”

“I know.” He licked his thumb and turned the page of his book, grinning at her over the top edge. “Satine liked it _very_ much.”

“I’m certain that’s why I’m gay,” she groaned, rolling her eyes, then sobered. “I saw what you did to that Jedi. We all did.”

“I’m not ashamed of it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kenobi muttered. “Master Koth once laughed at me as a Jedi, telling me that the Sith were destroyed and would never return.”

“Romar,” a new voice said, and Kenobi’s eyes flicked to the assassin that stood in the doorway to the pit. “Guys want to speak to you and him.”

Kenobi sighed, calmly bookmarking his book and setting it on the console, standing and allowing Romar to lead the way.

It was an awkward silence at first, the ten men staring at him and Romar for the moment, and then one spoke. “What the _hell,_ Romar.”

“We needed a pilot, and who better to ask than the one who _let me out,_ ” she snapped. “Besides, Kenobi and Dooku already hate each other. Why not help him?”

“Dooku is a means to an end,” Kenobi growled. “I didn’t agree with your capture, to be honest. I didn’t understand how a bunch of _criminals_ could be worthy prisoners; you’d done nothing against the Seperatists personally, nor the Republic. I wanted to _hire_ you, actually.”

“You hate droids,” one of the assassins muttered, “don’t you?”

“I also hate flying,” Kenobi winked, “but I’m here anyway, aren’t I?”

Silence fell over the group, and then one man murmured, “Lors Tekka died, guys.”

The group fell into a mournful silence, and then Romar sighed. “We all saw that coming, though. Let’s be honest, guys; he was old, and sick, and was only running the Gray Jedi through Avalon. I wouldn’t be surprised if he names her his successor, to be honest. She’s been running the organization since she was, like, eleven.”

“Three month mourning period,” another man muttered. “Started a week ago; we’ll know sooner or later.”

Kenobi shook his head. “Avalon is…. Something else.” He leaned against the pillars, then shrugged. “They always are. You all should get some sleep; we’ll hit Jedha in about eight hours.”

“What about you, Kenobi?” One asked. “How do we know you won’t kill us all in our sleep?”

Kenobi only grinned, then headed back into the cockpit, settling into the captain’s chair and picking his book back up. Uneasy satisfaction came from the group of men as Romar muttered something in that same language he didn’t understand, and she settled next to him, studying him.

“What?” Kenobi finally asked her, eyes flicking back to her.

The girl tilted her head, sighing. “In that Black Sun bombing…. We both know Satine died.” Kenobi flinched, but made no other movement. She only raised a hand to silence his objections, then she sighed once more. “I lost my entire family, Kenobi. I thought I had, anyway, and here you are.” She leaned back into her chair, scrubbing at her face. “My _Mandalorian_ family.”

Kenobi took a moment to reply, staring at the words on the page but not _reading_ them. “I closed that chapter in my life, Romar. I try not to let my past contribute to the actions of the future, and you should do the same. We can work together to bring this war to an end, but I need to know you’re with me, fully and wholly.”

“I’ll talk to the guys when we land,” she grunted. “But I make absolutely no promises. What you’re doing to that Jedi, Kenobi, it’s not right,” she pushed, and Kenobi narrowed his eyes, snapping the book shut.

He leaned forward, studying her eyes as she calmly, bravely, held his gaze, and then he growled, “You are _seventeen_. You don’t know the _extent_ of what I can do, nor what I’ve been through, nor what my agenda is. I serve a master with a higher purpose, with a _plan_ for this shattered galaxy. The path we take may not be right, Romar, but it’s the _plan._ ”

“So you’ll manipulate the entire galaxy into serving one man, your master.”

The words came more blunt than she probably intended, Kenobi realized, but he sat back in his chair, staring at her. “If it comes to that.”

She only stared at him, her face an unreadable mask. “I thought I knew you.” Blue eyes scrubbed him, stripped him of everything he knew and everything he was, the same gaze Satine once used on him. She stood, her cloak heavy on her shoulders, and paused at the door to the cockpit. “I thought I could see good in you, Kenobi. I thought I could bring you out of this hell you’re in, if not for you, then for Satine. I thought I could make her proud at my memory, I thought I could save someone she had loved dearly.” Her eyes glared at him, burning holes into his skin. “I thought Satine would have been proud of you, Kenobi. I was dearly wrong. You’re just as corrupt as the master you serve, as the Alliance you try to defend, as the Republic you seek to destroy. You’re no better than any of them.”

“And what would you know of politics?” Kenobi hissed. “Jedha is in a constant state of political turmoil! The Gray Jedi cannot exercise proper power over their own subjects—”

“ _But it’s a democracy!_ ” Romar howled, whirling around. “It is a _democracy._ The _people_ told the _Baransu no Kage_ what they wanted! Some wanted to join one side or the other, others to remain neutral, others still to provide support! We are factionalizing because Kage Tekka took too long before he made his decision. Now, we won’t know for _months._ ” Romar looked at him, her eyes even as she reined in her emotions. “Not that it matters anyway. _Your_ empire will crush us, regardless of what we wish. Like a true Imperialist, like a true Sith. Just power and control.”

She left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Kenobi groaned, slamming his head against the cover of the book he was reading. _You are a mess, Kenobi._

~*~*~

Quinlan Vos was either going to get killed that night, or he was going to have a _hell_ of a time.

Corellian brandy had found the way into the hands of the group, Ventress giggling happily at all the lewd jokes made by both Quinlan and Anakin, Ahsoka falling silent and grinning at her companions. Snips’ hand rested on Anakin’s, a small grip anchoring them in the sobering reality of what they were going through.

“Hey Ventress,” Quinlan grinned, and the Nightsister cast a wary gaze in his direction. “You have any Jedi in you?”

“No, I don’t,” the Darksider hissed, and Quinlan grinned.

“Want some?”

Ahsoka punched the Kiffar’s arm, scoffing in disbelief as Anakin howled with laughter, Ventress only grinning in response. “Depends on the Jedi, darling.”

Anakin and Ahsoka gawked in drunken shock, eyes flicking back and forth between the grinning Jedi and the smirking Nightsister, then stood, almost in unison. “I’m out. Good night, guys,” Ahsoka said, and Anakin just nodded and followed her, finding a room they could pass out in.

“Are they going to….?” Ahsoka murmured, drunkenly stumbling after Anakin’s more stable walk.

The Jedi paused and hoisted her up, hand tight on her waist, and sighed. “For both of their sakes, I hope so, but I also worry about the consequences for Quinlan.”

Ahsoka snorted. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

“Women and alcohol are his weakness, Snips,” Anakin murmured, finally finding a room in the winding hallways under the warehouse. Anakin helped Snips to the bed, the Togruta trying to shake herself free of the sobering stupor she was falling into, and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Skyguy,” she muttered, her hand finding his for one last reassuring squeeze before she fell asleep.

Anakin sat on the floor, closing his eyes and summoning the Force to help him cleanse himself of the alcohol before slipping into meditation, making sure to avoid both Quinlan and Ventress’s signatures for the rest of the night.

But his comm buzzed, and he answered it to see Ronin’s face staring up at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and she tilted her head.

_“I had a nightmare.”_ She paused. _“Are you alone?”_

His eyes flicked to Ahsoka sleeping on the bed, drunkenly passed out as she snored lightly. “Snips is asleep.”

_“Ah.”_ Ronin’s eyes found him, and she sighed. _“I meant to tell you…. When I was in my coma, I had a dream of you.”_

“Yeah?” Anakin asked, and she nodded.

_“Yeah,”_ she replied. They sat in silence as Ronin buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried. _“I saw you in there,”_ she murmured.

“What was it like?”

_“You were... you were Sith,”_ she murmured. _“But I actually saw you. I can paint you now, more accurately. I always imagined you with brown hair, not blonde.”_ She paused, and then said, _“Your eyes are also really pretty. You’re pretty in general….. Do you know why all the children find themselves around you?_ ” She asked him, as if she wanted to divert the attention from herself.  

When he didn’t reply, she rolled her eyes. _“Answer my question.”_

“No, I don’t,” he murmured, and she hummed a reply before she spoke.

_“You’re safe. You’re strong, in body and in the Force, so you’re safe. You’re comfortable in your own skin, even though you know you don’t belong, and that makes you look confident. Me? I’m a legend, that’s why they like me.”_ She yawned, the holofilm blurring as she moved. “ _Okay, I’m going to sleep now. Good night, skybrother,”_ she murmured, and the familiar slave name for close friends echoed pleasantly in his mind, the word now associated with something better, far greater than what he had once thought.

Even with the odd, random comm in the middle of the night, he had grinned, finally relaxing. Yes, he loved Mariana Chayten. He loved her dearly, and he would kill for her. He would kill, and murder, and manipulate to save her, to save any of his friends.

There was a more relevant question now, though: _where is the line drawn?_ What would separate him from Kenobi, from Ventress, and this strange Darth Sidious?

If there was an answer, he didn’t know it. At least, not before he drifted off to sleep, his mind tired and his body just as exhausted.

 

A shriek woke him as dawn broke the horizon on Lothal, and both Anakin and Ahsoka leaped out of bed and rushed towards the sound of arguing. Anakin threw the door open, seeing a half-dressed Ventress holding a saber to the throat of a _very-_ awake Quinlan, his eyes wide.

“What the hell, Ventress!” Anakin snarled.

“Shut it, Skywalker!” She snapped back.

Ahsoka only walked to the Nightsister, hand gentle on the girl’s bare shoulder, and gently took the saber from her, muttering in a language Anakin couldn’t catch.

Ventress grunted in response, and Ahsoka handed her the saber back. “Get dressed, Vos. We leave for the Sith Temple soon,” Snips sighed, and shoved past Anakin, the Togruta walking away from Anakin.

Anakin watched her go, noting the sadness and forlorn attitude that had followed her since they’d returned from Mustafar. His heart sank, and then he turned back to the pair in the room, both quickly and silently getting dressed.

Ventress shoved past Quinlan, and Anakin fell into step beside her as she quickly made her way towards the upper levels of the hideout. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“It’s none of your business, Skywalker,” she hissed as Quinlan caught up, the Kiffar oddly silent. Anakin raised an eyebrow, and as they broke the surface and went into the actual warehouse, Ahsoka stood, lonely and proud, waiting for them.

“Shall we?” She muttered, gesturing towards the speeders that were stocked on the far wall.

Ventress nodded, the quad all getting on their respective speeders and flying out of the warehouse, past the prairies of Lothal and into the badlands. She led them hours away from the city, towards this ominous, dark shadow that seemed to loom higher and higher over them. She stopped the speeder, and the team slowed beside her as she disembarked. “We’re here,” she murmured. “Either someone has to stay with the speeders, or we risk losing them to scavengers.”

Another speeder came out of the distance, but Ventress didn’t seem to react to it—at least, not violently. As the figure on it drew closer, the Nightsister relaxed, almost grinning.

“Forgive my tardiness, Mistress,” the woman said, bowing from her speeder. Her armor was all black, and her helmet hid her face; Anakin, though, swore she was familiar.

“It’s understandable, Lilith. I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Ventress grinned, and the woman removed her helmet, dark hair falling about her shoulders.

“ _Lilith?_ ” Quinlan and Anakin gasped, in unison. She curled her lip, hazel eyes falling on the trio.

“I wasn’t informed of your sudden affiliation with the Jedi, Mistress,” she muttered, dark hair falling about her face.

“We have a common enemy, for now,” Ventress muttered. “I would ask you to come in the Temple with us, but….”

Lilith shook her head. “I won’t. I’ll stay out here, watch the speeders. I’ll help you open it, if you need me.” Her eyes flicked between the Nightsister’s three companions, disdain on her face. “Though, to be fair, none of them are a Luminara.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Quinlan muttered, finally speaking for the first time in forever.

Her eyes fell on the Kiffar, and she nodded. “Vos.”

“She noticed me!” Quinlan grinned, clapping Anakin on the shoulder. “I was noticed!”

“Quinlan, _shut the fuck up,_ ” Ahsoka hissed, glaring at him.

Lilith snorted, then nodded to Ventress. “By your leave.”

Ventress nudged Ahsoka, who was still glaring at Quinlan, and the two turned, stepping into a circle outlined in rock—though it was too perfect a circle to be formed naturally.

“This may hurt a little,” Ventress warned, and reached out with the Force, Ahsoka following suit.

The sheer power of the Dark that swirled around the group made Anakin’s skin crawl, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Whispers echoed in his ears, and the Jedi’s hand tightened around his saber. The entire world seemed to be darker, the sun dimmer; the scar on his left forearm ached, and he _swore_ he saw Traya hiding in the shadows out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked, she wasn’t to be seen.

The very ground shook as a black building rose out of the ground, dirt falling like ash, the path towards it seeming to glow red. He felt Lilith’s eyes watching him carefully, but he also felt like every Sith in the history of the galaxy was watching him, as if every Force ghost held their breath to see what he would do.

Ahsoka dropped her hand, and so did Ventress.

“I’m impressed,” Lilith grinned. “Maybe these Jedi walk a little closer to the line than I thought. Even you, _Chosen One._ ”

“Leave him alone, Lilith,” Ventress panted, staring at the towering building. “So, who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Anakin immediately said, tearing his glare from Lilith towards the looming doors.

He pushed past his friends, heading into the dark caves of the Sith temple.

_Ssssssstop,_ a voice whispered, and the quad did, Ventress narrowing her eyes. _I am the sssssentinel of thissssss temple._

“Ventress,” Anakin muttered, hand closing on his saber.

“Don’t,” she snapped, hand on his shoulder. “It’s a test.”

_Sssssmart, thisssss one issss,_ the voice whispered, and a misty white figure appeared in front of them. _Jedi are not welcome here._

“I am no Jedi,” Ventress snapped. “I am the apprentice of Lord Tyranus, associate of Lord Revis and Lady Navini.”

_Revissssss?_ The ghost’s eyes settled on Anakin, a smug satisfaction coming from it. _Yesssss….. I know Revisssss._ A crooked, misty finger pointed at the said Jedi, smirking. _Asssss do you, Jedi Anakin Sssssskywalker._

Anakin kept his face carefully blank, the figure ushering him forward. He looked to Ventress, who shrugged. “Your call, Skywalker.”

He looked forward, and took a step forward.

_Why are you here, Jedi?_ The ghost whispered, stalking around him. _Revissss once came here himssssself, looking for anssssswerssss._

“My companions and I seek the answer to the end of this war,” he answered, his voice even, mind clear, though he could feel the ghost at the edges of his mind, testing him, feeling him out.

_You sssssseek peace,_ the ghost scoffed, _how cute, Chosssssen One…. The Force favorssss you._ The ghost tilted his head, grinning. _Ssssso much potential… I sssssee what Revissss wantsssss. Your power._

“What he and I want are not the same thing,” Anakin replied. “I want peace. He wants power.”

_You do not undersssstand, Jedi,_ the ghost sighed. _You alwaysssss want to be perfect, perfect for your little Council…. Tell me, Jedi, when wassss the lasssst time you chosssse for yoursssself?_ The ghost circled around him again, studying him. _Wassss it…. Padme Amidala? I can hear her calling you. Little Ani, ssssso confussssed._

_Or wassss it trying to ssssave Qui-Gon Jinn?_ The ghost trailed misty hands across the air as it stalked, Ahsoka watching as he tensed at the sound of his former master’s name. _You loved him. Your Masssster, your father, your brother, gone, in an insssstant. Revenge isssss all you want._

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” Anakin muttered back, his voice even, though he was slowly losing control.

_Hmmm, that isssss true…. What about Mariana Chayten, your precioussss Darth Navini? A murderer, a liar, a conartissssst,_ the ghost continued, sadistic notes growing in his tone. _Sssssshe’s lied to you, betrayed you…. And you sssstill defend her._

“I trust her,” Anakin retorted, his frustration rising.

_Asssss sssshe hassss wanted,_ the ghost replied. _And Revissss, your teacher, your anchor, your lover—_

“He is not my lover,” Anakin snarled, hands fisting behind his back.

_Isssssn’t he?_ Images flashed through Anakin’s mind; the grins, the subtle touches and the kisses, the nights spent in his embrace, and how _right_ , how _safe_ everything felt. _I can hear him whispering in your ear, little one. That’s what he calls you, yes? Little one?_ When Anakin didn’t reply, the ghost only laughed. _Now…. Your Padawan, your pride. Ahsssssoka, yesss._

“ ‘Pride’?” Ahsoka whispered behind him.

_Yessss…. Pride._ The ghost turned to her, eyeing her. _Little fallen Jedi. You walk a line, yessss you do. All of you do….. Your allegiancesssss, unclear. Your desssstiny in the handsssss of the Force….. And you, Ssssskywalker, you are the nucleussss of thissss. Yourssss and the twinsssss’ futuresssss are at sssstake. Don’t let your ambitionssss dessssstroy your only chance at happinesssssss… The ansssswersss you ssssseek you may find here. You may enter._

The ghost faded into the mists that had gathered around them, the rest of the group pushing past the paling Anakin. “Come on, Skyguy,” Snips muttered, gently taking his hand and leading him deeper into the temple.

His hand was limp in hers, his eyes glassy; he felt empty, devoid of any emotion besides despair and conflict. Flickers of Ronin, of her smiling eyes and trusting grin, of Revis and his smirks and of his _insanely_ addicting kisses, of his mother and anyone else he ever cared about soared through his mind.

Memories came back, with enough force to bring him to his knees; he was pretty sure he heard Ahsoka yelling for him to snap out of it, but he couldn’t—it was as if this _thing_ had him on lock, as if this was the only thing he could ever be.

He looked up at her as she shook his shoulder, but he wasn’t in a Sith temple. He was on Tatooine, her look of fear replaced by that of worry; silver blades against red, dancing across the sand in fury and anger and hate, love replaced by betrayal. He flinched away from her, sitting and holding his head in his hands.

Quinlan was beside him, the yellow tattoo across the man’s face seeming brighter than normal. But, like Ahsoka, he didn’t actually see _him._ He saw the Kiffar dancing across porcelain floors, saber clashing with the red of Kenobi’s, the golden eyes of the man he had grown to appreciate instead of hate glinting with pain and despair. Ventress was off in the back, blue eyes terrified and stunned; but there was nothing there for her, just sullen darkness.

Anakin managed to scramble away from them, his fingertips gripping the floor as he stared at his reflection; but the face that stared back was angry, golden eyes glaring holes back into him; cities burned behind him, with a silver circlet about his head and a pale, familiar hand resting on his chest. The warm gaze of Revis cast upon him, arm gently resting around the chest of the Sith, Emperor and Knight.

If there was anything after that, Anakin didn’t remember.

He woke up on the dirt outside the Temple, four figures standing over him as the stars came out.

“Anakin,” Ahsoka breathed, helping him sit up and hugging him tight.

“Hey, Snips,” he grinned, staring back at her as he hugged her back. “What happened?”

“The Temple fucked with you,” the blunt voice of Lilith grunted, the former Jedi sitting back on her heels. “Guess there was too much Jedi in you or something.”

“You were screamin’ like a girl just gave you the ride of your life,” Quinlan muttered, and Ventress scoffed, punching him in the shoulder. He stared, offended, at Ventress, rubbing his shoulder before looking back at Anakin. “You were yelling in a language I haven’t heard in _years,_ Skywalker. What happened to you?”

“It was Sith, Skyguy,” Ahsoka murmured, gripping his hand. “You were yelling in Sith.”

“Did you catch any of it?” He looked to Ventress, who shrugged.

“I don’t really know much. Dooku never saw fit to teach me once he decided I couldn’t become a full Sith, and Kenobi never had time to teach more than the basics.” She looked him up and down, then sighed. “Something about an empire rising from the ashes.”

Anakin nodded, holding his head in his hands. “I was afraid of that.”

“Why? What did you see?” Ahsoka asked, her hand on his knee now.

He didn’t reply at first, his chest tight. His heart raced; when had it become difficult to breathe? He pushed himself onto his knees, supporting his weight on his hands and knees, then punched the ground, clenching dirt in his palms as another wave of anger rode through.

Ahsoka reached to grab his shoulder, but Ventress stopped her, the group scattering away again. But the Togruta shook Ventress off, her loyalty to her master more than her trust in her friend. She sat in front of him on her heels, cradling his face and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Whatever this is, Skyguy, we’ll figure it out. I promise. You and me, together, like always.”

She pulled him into a hug, and he slowly relaxed, hugging her back.

“I saw the death of the Republic,” he muttered. “And I was the executioner.”

Ahsoka and Quinlan exchanged looks, and then they sat beside him, patting him on the back. “We can get through this, Anakin.”

“But what if we can’t?” He asked, leaping to his feet. “What if everything I saw will happen? What if…. What if I fall?”

“In all fairness, it’s not that bad being outside the Order,” Lilith sighed. “No rules, you can do whatever you want, plus you have a really fucking cool glowstick to cut people in half if you need to, or want to, for that matter. But, Skywalker, with you, everything is different. Whichever side you’re on is the side the galaxy takes. No matter what, you _must_ end this period of conflict, first within yourself. Otherwise….” Hazel eyes flicked to him. “We may never see peace.”

“Thanks,” the Jedi muttered, almost sarcastically. She rolled her eyes and took a drag off her cigarette.

“Fuck you, Skywalker. It’ll be the last time I help _you._ ”

“Lilith, please,” Ventress sighed, rolling her eyes. “We should camp out for the night.”

Anakin shrugged. “I don’t think I can sleep anyway.”

Ventress nodded, looking to Quinlan. “What say you?”

“As long as I get more time with you, darling, I would _love_ to do _anything,_ ” Quinlan purred, and Ahsoka gagged, making puking noises.

“That reminds me,” Lilith grinned, turning to the Togruta. “When I left the Order, you and Luminara’s Padawan were pretty close. Whatever came of that?”

“Barriss Offee bombed the Jedi Temple,” Ahsoka growled, “and framed me for it.”

Lilith paused, shock on her face. “Oh, shit. Is she still in the Order?”

“Yes.”

Lilith cringed. “I’m glad I left, then.”

“As am I,” Ahsoka muttered, leaning against Anakin. “But, I go where Anakin goes. I’m not really out of the Order, but I don’t hold a title anymore.”

“Fun,” Lilith replied, then leaned back on her speeder, flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette—was this her second or third?—and left them alone for the rest of the night, staring at the stars.

Once Ventress got a fire going, they all huddled around it, staring into the fire.

“I miss Kenobi,” Quinlan muttered finally.

“So you’re _the_ Quinlan Vos,” Ventress muttered. “Kenobi’s Jedi friend.”

“Yes,” Quinlan replied. “Did he talk about me?”

“At first, incessantly,” Ventress grunted, snapping her fingers. A metal box went flying towards her head, and she snatched it out of the air, opening it and taking out a cigarette. She lit it off a match, then shook it out, taking a drag. “You were his _friend._ The only one who believed him, the only one who trusted him completely and wholly. You allowed him to push his limits without question, without doubting his allegiance. He had much respect for you, Quinlan.” Her eyes were level with his, and then said, “I have _never_ seen him trust someone as much as the way he trusts you.”

“Even after all this time? Even after….?”

Ventress nodded; even if the Kiffar couldn’t finish his question, she knew what he meant. _Even after he fell._ Even after the Jedi did nothing as their best warrior, best leader, best _negotiator_ fell to the Dark, even after the man’s Master tossed him aside for a younger, more talented kid, even after the drunken sex, even after the years of separation. “Quinlan Vos, Jedi Knight, he loved and cared for you as much as he does me, if not more,” Ventress sighed. “You were his best friend. You gave him everything, and he gave it in return.”

Quinlan nodded, looking away. “I wish I could ask him why. I wish I could say how much I miss him.”

“You don’t have to,” an accented voice grunted from behind them, and Anakin looked up to see Kenobi, in a simple black tunic and trousers, saber clipped onto his belt.

“Kenobi!” Ventress squealed, launching up and throwing her arms around him. He almost yelped in surprise, but hugged her back just as tightly as she had him.

“Hello, darling,” he smiled, shoulders relaxing. “I’m glad to see you’re alright. I was worried when Sidious told me that there was activity at this temple; he worried the Jedi had gotten in forcibly.”

He let her go, and his eyes lingered on Anakin, who only nodded to him. Ahsoka gave him a small smile, but they did not move.

“Hey, Kenobi,” Lilith called from her speeder.

“Hello, Lil,” he called back, and turned to Quinlan. “I would hug you, but I don’t know if—”

In response, the Kiffar hugged the Sith tight, so tight Kenobi feared he would stop breathing. “ _Fourteen years,_ Kenobi, damn you. _Fourteen!_ ”

Kenobi smiled, shaking his head. “It’s been a hell of a ride, let me tell you.”

Quinlan finally let him go, and he walked around to Anakin and Ahsoka. “Snips,” he smiled, nodding to her. She rose, giving him a level look, and then grinned.

“Kenobi.”

They embraced quickly, and Kenobi turned to Anakin, who didn’t even look at him. “Hello, Anakin.”

Anakin didn’t say anything, and when Kenobi went to touch him, he shrugged away from his touch, glaring at the hand.

“What happened?” Kenobi asked, and when no one said anything, Anakin felt him poking at his shields, probing out the mood, and then sat down beside him.

_You were Sith,_ Ronin’s words echoed back to him.

_He wants your power,_ whispered the ghost, but his very _soul_ said otherwise.

“What happened, Anakin?” Kenobi asked, carding a hand through Anakin’s hair. “Let me in. Show me. Show me what happened. If someone hurt you, I will burn the entire world.”

_She lies to you,_ the ghost whispered again. _They all do. They want you for your power, for your legacy._

But the Jedi’s heart said otherwise.

He turned his head, eyes sad, and Anakin let him in.

Everything that happened filtered through Kenobi’s mind, and the Sith looked at him with such love and distress that it broke Anakin’s heart. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he murmured, and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Anakin murmured. “It’s happened before.”

The group chatted a little bit after that before retiring, but Kenobi was never far from Anakin, always keeping a watchful eye on him. When they fell asleep, the Sith’s arm around the Jedi, almost _drowning_ in Kenobi, the last thought on Anakin’s mind was, _I hope I never wake up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dunnnnn, return of the cuties. Anyway, take my late valentine's gift.   
> go yell at me on tumblr at sabeanwren or stxnesandxhadxws!


	9. { n i n e }

“ _What is thy bidding, my master?”_

Anakin stared down at the Sith before him, legs crossed over the other as he leaned back against the golden throne, eyes studying the pale hands that had pressed themselves to the obsidian floor, equally dark clothes draping the rest of the figure below him in a dark halo.

“Rise,” Anakin muttered, and the Sith did, pale gold eyes glinting in the fiery light from the wall-length fireplace behind the Emperor.

Kenobi’s grinning face stared back at him, but a wicked scar came up the jawline of the ginger, scraping across his cheek in a ropey, pale, silvery crescent; his face, though, remained otherwise unchanged. Anakin leaned forward, and beckoned the Sith up to the edge of the dais, glint of black tattoos racing up the Emperor’s arm left arm as he did so, vanishing under the rolled black sleeve at his elbow. Kenobi ghosted up the steps, the volcanic glass echoing with every step, and pressed a kiss to the hand of the Emperor before kneeling once again.  

“How goes the situation on Ryloth? You did not brief me upon your completion of the mission, as instructed,” Anakin sighed, looking down at the kneeling ginger. Guilt, shock, and mild surprise flickered across the ginger’s face, though they were replaced by calm, cool acceptance.

“Forgive me, Master,” Kenobi murmured. “I believed my time was of the essence, and that briefing you upon my return would be more beneficial. The rebels have disbanded, and the local governments sit in total control once again.”

“That’s excellent news. What about the Jedi hunts?”  

“Grandmaster Yoda and Ahsoka Tano still escape our grasp, as well as some others. Ventress and Lilith have a team of executioners on Coruscant right now, weeding out the ones in plain sight on that planet still. I will have a full, comprehensive report at the end of the cycle.” Kenobi bit his lip, shoulders slumping. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Anakin murmured, smiling gently down at him. “It’s not the same without you by my side. I wish I was out there with you.”

The elder man returned his lover’s grin, but shook his head. “We discussed this, dearest,” Kenobi sighed. “No action for you unless absolutely necessary. You’re too powerful, too valuable to put at risk.”  

Anakin leaned down, cupping Kenobi’s cheek in his hand and pulling the man up to standing on his knees. The blonde’s lips ghosted over the ginger’s, then a small peck. They refused more than that in public, whilst holding office; too distracting, too indefensible. The Emperor leaned back, scrubbing at his face. “I’m taking my Knights and going to look for Tano and the Twins myself. I leave in the morning.”  

“Anakin, darling, are you sure? Tano bested you the last time you faced her,” Kenobi warned, and the Emperor rolled his eyes, the said scars seeming to ache at the very mention of the memory.

“I am _sure,_ Kenobi. I want you there anyways,” he snapped. “I want you at my side when I’m facing her.”  

Kenobi hesitated, then nodded. “As you wish, sir.”  

“Dismissed,” Anakin murmured, and Kenobi bowed, backing down the steps and bowing again before turning his back to the Emperor. When the Sith was halfway out the door, he called, “And Kenobi?”  The Sith paused, turning to face him.  

“I love you,” Anakin grinned.  

The ginger only smirked, shaking his head. “I love you too, little one.”

 

The search had been cold, had been tiring.  

But for Anakin, he realized, the anger was the most notable thing about the mission. Kenobi and the Knights had taken the brunt of it, but their status often left them at the mercy of his anger anyways; the Emperor’s temper was, in many hushed whispers about the Palace, his worst quality.  Even the Emperor himself would agree, Mara Jade had once attested; even the young, beautiful girl known outside the Knights only as the Emperor’s Hand had been subject to his fury. She had later confided in Kenobi, asking him, and Kenobi would quote later to Anakin, _“What stick crawled up his ass and festered there?”_

Since then, Anakin Skywalker had a deep appreciation for his favorite assassin.

Twigs snapped nearby; logic told the former Jedi that it likely belonged to one of his Knights. But, even so, Anakin’s red saber in the dull of night cut through the darkness like a flame in the night. The ground was turned the color of blood and the rain pelted down around them, the cool water sizzling on the hot blade. Wolves often plagued these areas–he was surprised none of them have shown their mangy faces yet.  

“Sir,” one of his knights called, and Anakin turned.  

“Yes?” he hissed out, and the man flinched. It looked like Kuma, one of the other Kiffar Jedi that he had turned.

“Vader, sir–we are ready to set off whenever you are. The Jedi in this area are gone, if there even were any.”  

He nodded, showing no physical reaction other than the tightening of his hand on his saber. “Dismissed.”  

The knight scampered off, probably to go regain his composure.  Anakin took a few breaths, doing the best he could to maintain his temper—losing it now would do him no good, not when he was _so close_ to finding Tano and the Twins—when a whimper cut through the air. 

Anakin froze, gripping his saber tighter. His knuckles had turned white, the ridges of the hilt embedding themselves in the flesh of his left hand. Out of the bushes stumbled a young wolf pup, scared and alone. He could hear his men calling him from the ship, telling him they were ready to take off; he could also hear Kenobi shushing them, telling them not to rush him. Vader stared down at the young pup, frozen in terror in the red light of the Sith’s blade, and he could _feel_ the poor thing’s loneliness. Something about her, about this pup, drew him in, breaking his very soul into shattered bits of broken glass, sharp, lonely, deadly.  

Lightning crashed nearby; the pup whimpered, cowering away from the Emperor as the rain fell harder. _Don’t, Anakin,_ he told himself, but he found himself switching off his saber, gently calling the pup to him.  

She slowly, tentatively came forward, Anakin reaching with the Force ever so gently, feeling her fear and curiosity. She came to him, finally, and then pushed her head into his hand, gently nibbling on his thumb.

“Don’t have a family?” he murmured to her, the poor, shivering thing scooting towards his warmth. “Me neither, really. Just me and Kenobi. I have twins, but they’re hidden from me. I’m looking for them.”  The wolf pup yipped, sucking on his thumb.  “What?” Anakin laughed, scratching her on her head. “You want to come with?”  

She whined, and Anakin groaned, scrubbing at his face with his free hand. _Don’t, Anakin. Just don’t,_ he murmured, but despite his logic, he scooped the shivering, orphaned, abandoned thing into his cloak, hugging her close to his chest as he carried her back to the ship.  

“There you are!” Kenobi groaned, shaking his head as the Emperor walked up the loading dock. “I was getting worried.”  

“I had a small detour,” the Emperor replied. He opened his cloak, showing the cold, tired pup. “She was either abandoned or orphaned. I just can’t leave her there.”    

“Anakin Skywalker, Emperor of the Galactic Empire, Jedi Hunter, and Sith Lord, unable to sacrifice _one_ wolf pup,” a smirking voice from one of the Knights grinned. He recognized it as Tatooine in accent, but not who it belonged to.

Kenobi only sighed, smirking and shaking his head. “So, we have a pet now?”  

Anakin grinned. “Please?”  

The Knights laughed, all grinning as the Emperor kissed his husband, a pup yipping happily.  

Anakin Skywalker was at last happy, and like everything else, it had to end.  

 

He woke up, staring up at the coloring sky on Lothal, Kenobi’s arm around his waist and the ginger’s head on his shoulder. Something was missing. Something felt _off,_ as if it had changed overnight.  

“You’re thinking too loud,” Kenobi grumbled, nuzzling into the Jedi’s shoulder.  

“Sorry,” Anakin murmured, staring at his hand. No tattoos. No wolf pup. No inner peace. Nothing. Just Kenobi beside him, and the entire group sleeping around a smoldering fire. Some form of peace found him there, but it wasn’t anywhere near the chaos and peace he felt in that dream; the perfect medley of Sith and Jedi, of Gray and Dark, playing with his _family—_

Family.  

He looked to the resting Sith, whose gold eyes served as a reminder. There. In those golden orbs, there were promises of riches and gold, of unlimited power, but he could _never_ have a family. Not with Kenobi. Not without sacrificing himself to the Dark as well.  

Anakin carefully extracted himself from Kenobi’s grasp, but the Sith didn’t complain. The Jedi walked towards the cliffside, some distance away from the temple, and sat at the edge, staring down into the chasm below. He wondered what it would be like if he jumped, what would happen. He wanted to know if Qui-Gon was really out there still, if he was still with him. He wanted some assurance that he wasn’t alone in his struggle, that his dreams were just that and not visions of the future.  

Lilith plopped down beside him, pulling at the grass in front of her crossed legs as she sighed. “I wonder the same thing.”  

“I’m sorry?” Anakin asked.  

“What it would be like if I jumped.” She looked down, throwing grass blades into the wind and watching them blow away. “Would my old Master wait for me there? What about my girlfriend? What about those I lost as a Jedi, or those I lost as a Separatist?” She tilted her head back, staring up at the sky, and then sighed. “I wonder what I would be like if I hadn’t left the Order.”  

“Why did you leave, anyway?” Anakin asked. “I heard you were pretty good.”  

She only chuckled. “ _Entirely_ selfish reasons. I was four when I came into the Order. I was ripped from my mother, from my father, on Tatooine. I was born to freed slaves, into a poor family, but I loved it. I loved my life. I was _free._ Of course, when you’re four, anything seems free, but even so.” She shrugged, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “I wanted to find my family. I wanted to find out where I was from, who my parents were. I wanted to belong to something that meant something to me, not just a ‘greater good’ I wasn’t sure I even understood anymore.” Lilith tossed another handful of grass into the air, watching the green blades dance across the sky.  

“Did you ever find them?” Anakin quietly asked, as if he knew the answer.  

She paused, then sighed. “I painted the door red when I found them. It looked like no one had in years. I spoke to them, but they didn’t reply; though, I suppose, when ghosts aren’t strong enough with the Force, they can’t. I have a brother, though. His name is Michael. He’s a mechanic, on Naboo.”  

“Do you talk to him?” He asked, watching the blades disappear into specks on the horizon.  

“No. I haven’t gotten the courage yet,” she replied. “Based off what I was told, he’s younger than me by about six years. He may not even know I exist.”  

Anakin laid a hand on her knee, looking at her with remorse. “I’m sorry, Lilith.”  

She shrugged, leather jacket bunching around her shoulders. “It is what it is. I may never speak to him. I don’t know if it’s worth it, anyway. After all, I’m a disgraced Jedi. I’m a no one. A bounty hunter, a mercenary. I work for Ventress, sure, but who’s to say she won’t try to kill me once she’s done with me?” Lilith shrugged, pulling out a cigarette from the pack. She offered him the pack, but he shook his head, and she just shrugged and put it away.  

“I left when I was thirty,” she murmured. “I’m in this mission for one last thing, Skywalker. I’m not young, but I’m not old either. I want to be happy. I want to settle down somewhere, with a woman, have a family. I want to be truly free, of my past, of my _fucking_ indiscretions and the Jedi. I want to be _me,_ for the first time in my life.”

Anakin nodded, staring at her as she talked. Finally, she nodded to him. “Knowing that, what do you want, Anakin?”  

The Jedi paused, turning to look at the camp that had slowly started coming to life. Kenobi sat up, watching him, but turned to Ventress, Quinlan, and Ahsoka, almost as if it were a fairy tale coming to an end.  

“I don’t know,” he murmured, pulling at the grass. “All my life, I wanted to be a Jedi. Then I met Padme Amidala, and then I wanted to be a father. Then she died, and then I had nothing. I was a secretly broken Jedi, the Hero with No Fear, the Chosen One; my choices were made for me, and I was left to break the rules. I left my mother when I was eight, on Tatooine as well. I was allowed to have a relationship with her, thanks to Qui-Gon, who was the father I never had. I lost everything when he died, including myself.” He paused, looking back at Kenobi, who was laughing and smiling.  

“Did you find yourself in Kenobi?” Lilith asked quietly, following his gaze.  

Anakin’s blue eyes shifted to her, and then he shrugged. “Maybe. But, Lilith, I barely know him. I lived with him as part of a _mission,_ and I ended up here. My allegiances are tested, my Padawan who was a stellar Knight is now outside the Order, my best friend is sleeping with Ventress, and I’m confiding in a fallen Jedi. My entire world has been ripped apart, my entire _life_ turned upside down. I don’t know what to think, and I don’t know what to do.”  

Lilith nodded, then stood, pulling him up too. “You see, Anakin, sometimes we have to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and pretend.”  She walked away, heading towards the packing camp, and Anakin followed after a bit, embracing Kenobi.  

“Are you alright, _woyunoks?_ ” Kenobi whispered in his ear, and Anakin shook his head.

“No, I’m not,” he murmured, and pressed a gentle, sad kiss to the Sith’s lips. “I don’t want to pretend to be enemies. I don’t want to lose you in this damned war. I don’t want to lose anyone else. I just want it to end.”  

The group all looked to him, and then sighed. “There’s nothing we can do, not now,” Ventress murmured.  

“We all have to get it together. I’ll talk to Avalon when she returns, but there’s no promises,” Quinlan added. “Hopefully she and Ronin have something figured out by then.”  

“That may be too late,” Kenobi murmured. “ _Kage_ Tekka has died, and has ordered a three-month mourning period. I doubt Ronin or Avalon will leave the Holy City during this time, until his successor is announced.”  

Lilith nodded. “Kenobi is right, as much of an ass he is. Quinlan, when’s the next time you can get Avalon on a call?”  

“I can get Ronin on a call tonight,” Anakin whispered softly. Ahsoka stared up at him, and she sighed.  

“He’s right. Avalon isn’t our only contact, and quite frankly, I don’t trust her,” Ahsoka muttered. “Besides, we can go to them.”

“Jedha is in a state of political unrest,” Kenobi sniffed, shaking his head. “There is nothing there for us but confusion and turmoil. I trust Mariana, and I trust Anakin. What we do next will wait on her word.”  

Silence fell over the group, then Quinlan laughed from his bedroll, the only one not completely packed. Everyone turned to the tall Kiffar, confused; when he collected himself, he only said, “We are the biggest _fucking_ let-downs in the galaxy!”  

Lilith threw a shoe at him.  

The group laughed, but Ahsoka nodded. “He’s right. Two Jedi whose allegiances were always questionable. A Sith, who was originally thought to be the enemy, is now our leading confidant. Two Darksiders who would rather watch the Separatist Alliance _and_ Republic burn, and me, just along for the ride.”

“Weirdest fucking family ever,” Quinlan giggled, and Anakin nodded.  

 _Family._  

“I never had a family,” Anakin murmured.

Kenobi gave him a sad smile, gripping his shoulder. Ventress smiled at the ground, and she replied, “Well, now you have one, Skywalker.”  

“We all do,” Ahsoka smiled, grabbing her former master’s hand. “We’ll defeat this. We’ll figure this out. We can be someone, we can be together.”  

“Might have to kill each other, though,” Quinlan giggled, and they all rolled their eyes.  

“Maybe not,” Ahsoka muttered. “We can all leave. We can walk away and hide, deep in Wild Space, and let this blow over.”  

“Ahsoka, that is a _surefire_ way to get all of us killed,” Ventress grunted. “If we all _live_ together without any separation we will, absolutely, kill each other.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to protest, then narrowed her eyes at Quinlan, and then nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It ain’t my fault, dearie,” Quin grunted, still lounging on his bedroll.  

“We have to give the Council _something,_ ” Anakin murmured. “Something to make this believable.”  

“You mean…. This?” Ahsoka grinned, hefting a red and gold prism.  

“A _Sith holocron?!”_ Kenobi and Ventress gasped, reaching for it.  

She snatched it away from them, glaring at them. “What the hell? You have two!”  

“If that falls into Jedi hands, it won’t be good for the Sith,” Kenobi grunted, eyes wide. “Snips. Please.”  

Ahsoka stared at it, then shook her head. “No. Kenobi, you claim there’s a Sith in the Senate. If you _really_ want to bring him to his knees, you’d let us have this.”  

All eyes turned to the Sith, who looked more torn than anything else. “Ahsoka….” He murmured, shaking his head. “He’ll kill me.”  

Anakin hesitated. It was the _first_ time he’d heard true, unbiased fear in Kenobi’s voice, and for all the adrenaline it sent through his body, he wished it was that last; but somehow, he knew it wouldn’t be.  

“He’ll kill me,” Kenobi muttered, sitting on one of the speeders, head in his hands. “I have eight months, and if I don’t, it’s a _mass_ genocide.”  

“Don’t what?” Quinlan asked, finally sitting up.  

“Kenobi,” Ventress warned, distress on her face. Lilith turned to Kenobi, confused, watching the interactions.  

 _He’s lying,_ a ghost muttered, like a snake on his shoulder, slithering secrets into Anakin’s ear. _He’s hiding something. They all are._  

Gold eyes shifted from person to person, and finally settled on Anakin. “Please don’t make me do this,” Kenobi whimpered, _fear_ pouring from him in an unstoppable tidal wave. Anakin felt it, every ounce of it, and his eyes widened, blue settling on gold.

“You’re supposed to turn me,” Anakin stated, as blandly and forward as the Senate.  

“Anakin, don’t talk like that,” Kenobi protested, but the Jedi were silent, staring at him in shock.  

“You _liar,_ ” Anakin snarled, anger bubbling. “I _trusted_ you. I was _beginning_ to maybe, _maybe_ , love you!”  

Kenobi paled, standing up to reach for the twitching Jedi. Anakin, in a roar of anger, punched the Sith, snapping the man’s head to the right and forcing him back a few steps. “Anakin—” Kenobi began, but Anakin came howling in for another punch, shoving the Sith back with every angered strike.     

Kenobi, though, didn’t raise a hand to defend himself. Every strike of Anakin’s fell upon his skin, unblocked, every blow driving full force into the Sith’s body. Every ounce of his pain, Kenobi felt, he deserved; but Anakin’s final kick to his chest sent him flying back against the speeders, draped across it like it were a crucifix. Anakin went charging one more time, but Quinlan and Ahsoka stopped him, the Jedi howling in rage and thrashing against their grip. He sank his teeth into Quinlan's arm, who howled in pain but didn't let go; Ahsoka, upon trying to help the Kiffar with restraining the man, was kicked away, Anakin's foot in her jaw.

The Force swirled dangerously, darkly, like a raging storm around the blond, making Ahsoka and Quinlan sick to their stomachs. If Ronin were there, Ventress had briefly thought, even she would turn her head in nausea away from the red and black storm that surrounded the Jedi.

Lilith watched on with a surprised and impressed, yet passive, expression, taking a drag off one of her cigarettes. Ventress ran to Kenobi’s side, holding the half-unconscious Sith’s head in her hands. “Kenobi. Answer me,” she growled, lightly slapping his cheek. “Stay awake.”  

“Hnn,” Kenobi moaned, pulling his jaw away from the Nightsister. “I’m okay.”  

Anakin roared with anger, eyes flashing a dangerous gold. “Traitor!”  

Ahsoka yanked him back, shoving at his shields with her mind. “Anakin! Snap out of it!”  

He roared and backhanded her across the face, the Togruta scrambling backwards and fumbling for something, for _anything,_ that could help her out. Quinlan struggled against the stronger Knight, finally pulling him into a triangle choke and dragging him to the ground. Anakin howled with rage, fighting for every inch he could get free, until a sharp blow at the back of his head sent him slipping in and out of cognitive function.  

 _He never cared about you,_ the ghost whispered. _He deserves to be punished._

Anakin was beginning to think it was right.  

 _Family,_ it echoed to him. _Look at your little family now._

Images flickered across his vision, though he was acutely aware of his static body, stiff and immovable. Ahsoka stared at him, but her eyes were older, tired, weathered; she was taller, too, but she seemed smaller. Her shoulders slumped, white sabers at her sides. Blood cascaded down her back, though he couldn't tell if it was hers or not. Barriss, Mace, and Yoda lay dead at her feet; she turned her head, blue eyes watery and tears sliding down her cheeks. _“You did this,”_ she muttered to him.

Before he could reply, he was ripped away at the back of his neck, the new image showing Maul slicing through his mother like she were nothing more than a stick of soft butter. Anakin roared in anger and pain, the face of his mother staring up at him, blank and unseeing. Maul turned his head towards him, and yanked his head back by his hair. _“You should be thankful,_ **_boy,_ ** _”_ Maul snapped. _“Family is a distraction.”_

Luke and Leia, well into their twenties, then stood back to back, Leia in white, Luke in black; they each held a lightsaber and a blaster, Luke’s blue, Leia’s a startling gold. They deflected bolts away from each other, but a familiar face brought them to their knees: a tired Avalon, gray hair and gray eyes aged far beyond her current age. She sat in a wheelchair, hand extended out in front of her. _“Bow before your Emperor, Skywalkers. Bow before your father, before his Knights, and you may be spared.”_

 _“Never!”_ Luke howled in defiance, and Leia’s brown eyes narrowed.

 _“Our father died years ago! The man who charades as him has long since destroyed him.”_ She leveled the tip of her blade at Anakin, who registered shock. _“And I shall avenge him, blade to blade, to the death. My father was my everything, and Darth Vader stole him away from me!”_

Anakin fell to his knees to avoid his daughter’s gold blade, but the scene faded back to that black and gold throne room from his dream, fingers digging into the obsidian floors. None of this was real, he decided, but his sobs still wrecked his body. Tears dripped onto the stone beneath him, and the single beam of silvery light cast a spotlight on him in the shadows.

A figure stood in front of him, and Anakin looked up, eyes sobbing, face contorted with his pain; the figure, unfamiliar in every aspect, extended a dark hand towards him, palm up. _I can save you, He Who Walks the Sky,_ the accented voice assured him. _You are so much more than you think you are._

Anakin scrambled away from the figure, but they did not move. Instead, they stepped into the light, and removed their hood.

Ebony skin absorbed the light from the moon, washed devoid of lifelike color. Their eyes were white, simply pure white, as if they had been born with no irises or pupils.

 _I am The One with No Name,_ they whispered. _I am simple. I am both mercy and revenge and I am everything you fear, yet everything you hate. Trust me, and you will be saved, Anakin Skywalker. I have watched over you your entire life._ The hand was extended once again, ebony reaching for ivory. _I am your ally._

Anakin hesitated, then took their hand.

~*~*~

“You did not _have_ to do that,” Quinlan snarled, and Snips rolled her eyes, sitting next to Anakin on the bed and resting her hand on his chest.  

“Quinlan, I have _never_ seen him like that,” she murmured, gripping his hand in hers. “I have _never_ seen him that angry, that out of control. He could have killed you, killed me, Kenobi, anyone.”  

“Should’ve let him,” Vos grunted, and Ahsoka shook her head.  

“No. I need him alive, especially if I’m going to bring down the Jedi Order and reform it.” She sighed, exhaling through her nose. “Did you set the course for Coruscant?”  

“Yes,” Quinlan grunted, crossing his arms. “I’m not a _child.”_

“I beg to differ,” Anakin hissed, his free hand covering his eyes from the light. “What the hell happened?”  

“Well, I, uh, hit you over the head with a rock,” Ahsoka sheepishly admitted, and Anakin let out a long breath, gently squeezing her hand.  

“Thank you,” Anakin murmured. “I… I didn’t hurt you, did I? I don’t really remember much.”  

Ahsoka rubbed at her jaw, bruised almost a black, and glanced at the bite marks that littered Quinlan’s forearm and bicep. “We’ve been hurt worse, a _lot_ worse,” she murmured. “A couple of bruises, some bites, nothing major.”  

Anakin groaned. “Why didn’t you just let me kill him?”  

Silence fell. Ahsoka looked away, Quinlan glared at her. “He’s a _traitor,_ Ahsoka. He harmed Anakin, he put you at risk—”

“Does it matter what he did to me?” Ahsoka quietly murmured. “I need him alive. I have my own agenda; don’t confuse me for one of your _precious_ Jedi Knights. I’m not. I never will be, not again,” Ahsoka snarled, blue eyes glinting. “I’m _done_ with the Jedi.”  

Quinlan flinched, looking away. Snips averted her gaze, shaking her head. “This is ridiculous.”  

“I agree,” Anakin murmured. “But Snips….”  

“Don’t,” she snapped, standing up and going to the cockpit, sealing the door.  

“What did I say?” Anakin asked Quinlan, who only shrugged.  

“I don’t know, Skywalker. I don’t _fucking_ know.” The Kiffar turned to the Knight, a bottle of whiskey in hand. “Ever since Kenobi went missing, I thought I was responsible. Now here he is, a fucking _Sith!_ A Sith!” Quinlan threw his head back and laughed, tossing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s a friend.”  

Anakin flinched as he sat up, groaning. The room spun around him, eyes squeezing shut. “Ugh.”  

Quinlan darted to his side, helping him sit up and get his feet over the edge of the bench. “Easy, Skywalker. Snips got you pretty good.”  

“Yeah, she did,” he grinned. “I’m proud.” Anakin’s eyes opened a bit, following the angry red bite marks on Quin’s arm before sighing. “I’m sorry, Quinlan. I’m sorry you had to see that. I haven’t…. I haven’t felt that way since—”

“Since your mother almost died,” Quinlan muttered. “I read your files. I keep tabs on you, contrary to popular belief. I was also there on the extraction team when Qui-Gon called for help.”  

Anakin hummed in response.  

“What do you normally do when you get like that?” Quin quietly asked, brown eyes studying Anakin. “Fuck? Drink? Drugs? What? Everyone has their breaking point, Skyguy.”  

Anakin looked the Kiffar in the eye, his blue eyes narrowed. “Depends. Destroy machinery, droids, whatever. Fix things. Train.” Anakin leaned back, closing his eyes. “Cut. Claw at my skin until I bleed. It really depends.”

When Quinlan didn’t reply, Anakin opened his eyes to see the Kiffar staring at him in shock. “I never expected that from you,” he replied, finally, and Anakin shrugged.  

“The Council doesn’t know about it.”  

“I’m sure,” Quinlan muttered. “What was it like? Living with Kenobi on Mustafar?”  

Anakin shrugged. “I guess it was just another mission.”  

Quinlan only nodded, then leaned back into his choice spot. “I’m going to get fucking wasted; if you want to join me, go for it, but I think you need to rest.”  

Anakin paused, then waved a hand. “Pour me a glass. No one should drink alone.”  

“You’re crazy, Skywalker,” Quinlan grunted, and Anakin smirked, tilting his head.  

“Crazy, reckless, call it what you will; but I get results,” Anakin shrugged, throwing down the first glass with hardly a second thought.  

Halfway across the galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat shaking, terrified of facing his master, on a Separatist battlecruiser, Ventress standing across from him. “You made a mistake, so what,” she shrugged, purple robes draped across her gray skin like they were regal gowns tailored to her body. She’d only managed to get on because Kenobi said she was his prisoner; any Sep, regardless of race, knew far better than to question him anyways.  

The steaming cup of tea in his hands burned his skin, but the shaking Sith didn’t set it down or change how he was holding it. Something about the pain kept him focused, kept him grounded; the burn was real. His pain was real. It, often, was the only thing he could count on being real.     

First, it had started with a vision. The ghost of a memory licking at the edges of his thoughts like a wanton dog, tearing him apart from the inside. It flickered in and out of his memory, but he swore it went something like this:  

 

 _Everything about them was dynamic._  

Anakin, with his military prowess, and Obi-Wan, with his tense inner workings of the Jedi order. They spent time away from the battles to find the Dark in pleasure, in pain, in their darkest places. Anakin found himself at the mercy of Obi-Wan on many occasions, hair in fist and his body pulled like a taut line ready to snap. The hand of Revis trailing down the Emperor’s skin, like a musician stringing his instrument, marking him, _owning_ him, if even for that short moment, was almost too much for the duo to bear some days.  

Everything they were pushed the limits of the Force. They were difficult to best in combat separately, and impossible together. Anakin’s endeavors with the former Jedi were not unknown, not in the slightest; many of the other Knights had even assisted them with some…. More _trying_ aspects of their relationship.  

This particular time had them ripping off each other’s robes, Anakin’s skin still freshly cut and bruised from the latest of the fights against the fleeing Jedi. Pleasure stemmed from pain and vice versa, bites leaving possessive marks of ownership and drawing blood while still enticing pants and gasps from the blond’s throat.

“I told you not to do anything too reckless,” Obi growled against Anakin’s throat, nipping bruises into the tanned, scarred skin.  

Anakin laughed, his nails digging half-moon crescents into the bare flesh of Obi’s chest. “Then I shouldn’t be doing you,” he laughed, and a sharp bite from his lover caused Anakin’s smug laugh to be cut short by a breathy gasp and a groan of pleasure.  

It was a struggle to make it to the bed without tripping over each other, mainly because they refused to detach from each other and neither man was in the mood to give up what little control they had.  

Anakin eventually lost, the ginger man pinning him down with his hips and tying his arms to the headboard, leaving Anakin a giggling, hot mess.  

Obi reached over to the bed table, poured himself a drink, and took the 150-proof whiskey like a shot before allowing Anakin the same pleasure. The younger man coughed a bit, though he didn’t choke; Anakin had never been much of a drinker anyway.  

“Tonight,” Obi smirked down at the younger lover, “you are _mine_ to control.”  

And control him Kenobi did, like he’d done it thousands of times before and would continue to do so until the end of time.  

 

“Kenobi,” a voice muttered, and a hand shook his shoulder. “Kenobi!”  

The Sith lifted his head finally, staring in shock at Ventress. “Sorry, what’d I miss?”  

“You’re crying,” Ventress hummed in broken Sith, and the man scrubbed at his eyes and cheek.  

“Sorry,” he muttered.  

“It just freaked me out,” she sighed. “I rarely see you show emotion and when you do, well….”  

Kenobi nodded. “I’m just—”

“Sir,” a voice called from the hall. Kenobi looked up, his face immediately a perfect picture of a man who had his life together.  

“What do you want?” he snapped, voice sharp. He probed at Ventress, though, seeking permission to do what he had to sell the ‘prisoner’ part of her role. She sent a wary affirmative, preparing herself to literally shatter her own will so Kenobi didn’t have to.

The lieutenant's eyes flicked worriedly to the Darksider in the room, then whimpered out, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir, but Lord Sidious is asking for you.”  

Kenobi felt himself go sheet white.  

“Of course,” Kenobi murmured. “Just me, or…?”

The man shook his head. “Her too.”  

Kenobi nodded. “Show me the way.”  

They were lead to a secluded part of the ship, a sense of foreboding hanging in the air. Kenobi’s skin crawled, his mind immediately erecting walls miles thick around his mind; but he knew, like Ventress, that it would do no good. Not like this. Not face-to-face.  

“You had one job, Lord Revis,” Sidious hissed, glaring at the Sith Lord as he entered the room.  

“I have failed you, my master,” Kenobi breathed, a tremble in his voice. He willed it away, but he knew that it wouldn’t do him _any_ good.  

“Damn right you have,” Sidious snapped back, golden eyes turning to Ventress. “And you! Revis spent _so much_ of his time assuring me you were of some use to me, to him, to the Separatist Alliance, and yet you hide from us!”  

“Master, it is not her fault!” Kenobi immediately howled, leaping in front of Ventress. “Lord Tyranus made his ruling clear, and Ventress had to run.”  

“Kenobi,” Ventress murmured, gently shoving him aside. “I can do this. I can pay for my own sins.”  

“Ventress,” Kenobi warned, eyes begging, _pleading_ for her not to do what he thought she was going to do.  

She handed him her sabers, the curved hilts resting in his palm. “Think fondly of me, my brother,” she murmured, her broken Mando’a shattering his heart.  

She knelt in front of Sidious, the chaotic storm swirling amongst them slowing some. “How curious,” he murmured, staring at the girl. “What have you to say for yourself, Asajj Ventress?”  

She flinched at her name, but she pressed her forehead to the floor. “I was born to a Nightsister. I was sold into slavery, and rescued at the age of three by my Jedi master. I was taught the ways of the Force, but when the Jedi refused to help him, leading to his death, I renounced the order. I renounced the people that had saved me. I ran to Count Dooku, I studied under him; I traveled with Revis, I fought alongside Grievous. I have been a pivotal factor to the Separatist Alliance, only for me to fail my master once too many. Kenobi saved me. Kenobi saved me many times, in fact; but now, he can’t. I want to be a Sith, Lord Sidious, but not if it means I have to lose everything I’ve fought so hard to attain.”  

Kenobi watched, paling, as Sidious examined her, her grunts of pain enough to make his skin crawl. She was his _friend,_ and she needed him; but she had made herself clear.  

“Your heart lies in Revis, not in the Sith,” Sidious finally stated, disgust in his voice, “but you are, indeed, useful. I see what Revis sees in you. The Rule of Two we have already changed, due to Revis’ skills and my temporary need for Tyranus, but we can, potentially…. We can potentially make room for another, once Skywalker becomes ours.” Sidious’ gaze fell on Kenobi, shaking his head. “I will speak to him myself, since you’ve _royally_ made sure he never trusts you again. I will do what I can, Revis, to salvage this mess you made, but I cannot make any promises to your little plaything’s well-being.”  

“How unstable even _is_ Skywalker anyway?” Ventress blurted out.  

Sidious and Kenobi looked at each other, Kenobi cringing. “It’s bad,” Kenobi muttered. “Really bad.”  

“So elegant,” Sidious deadpanned, rolling his eyes.  

“Bad on the level of Mariana at Jakku, in the badlands,” Kenobi asserted. “Right after she found out about what happened on Hosnian Prime.”  

Ventress cringed.  

“Yeah,” Kenobi nodded. “Bad.”  

“So what do we do?” Ventress asked. “Surely, there is _something_ we can do.”  

“You two,” Sidious growled, “are going back to Coruscant to await my command. I will speak with Skywalker. Until you _do_ hear from me, you, Asajj Ventress, are under the tutelage of my esteemed apprentice.” Sidious stuck his chin in the direction of the said ginger, who bowed in return. “Dismissed.”  

Kenobi and Ventress bowed, and did their _very_ best not to run out of the room.

“That went well,” she hummed, and Kenobi only shook his head.  

“No, no it didn’t,” he murmured, taking her hand and leading her to his ship. “You fly; set course for Mustafar. We’re making a detour.”  

Ventress opened her mouth to protest, but the sharp look of Kenobi silenced her efforts. “Yes sir,” she muttered, but before she left his side, he grabbed her arm, dropping her sabers into her hands.

“You might need these,” he grinned, and she smirked back at him, darting into the cockpit of his ship as he settled into the common area, his head in his hands and eyes pressed into the heels of his palms. He’d somehow managed to go from a smiling, grinning man who had it all together to the joke of the galaxy in less than twelve standard hours, and from having the love of his life in his arms to losing him in even _less_ time.   

It was a three-day flight to Mustafar. There were no hyperspace routes that took them directly to Mustafar, or its generally uninhabitable system, so there was very little reason for the Republic to have more than a few refineries, and, generally, no major hyperspace routes.  

There were, of course, the exceptions to the case; semiannually, the refinery workers were replaced and restocked, allocating for major Republic activity in Mustafar airspace and, at the time, making a _very_ paranoid Mariana panic as her security systems went haywire.

But, since the war started, the refineries were abandoned, sitting vacant and quietly rusting away in the quiet, otherwise empty, volcanic countryside of Mustafar.  

There was a certain magic, Kenobi mused, of being one of two people on a planet. There was peace here, peace he couldn’t find otherwise. One person was easy to ignore; millions, or even billions, could grate on him, push on him as he was meditating.  

Something told him, though, that as he walked alongside the spines that had become Ronin’s library, he wasn’t the only one ghosting over his former Padawan’s work. A familiar presence, warm, tender, had settled around him, carrying the scent of sandalwood.  

 _Sandalwood._  

He knew that scent. He knew it like he knew Coruscant, forever embedded in his brain, in his very being. It belonged to the man who raised him, taught him everything he knew; it belonged to Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi, a Gray Jedi—a man who was a god in the eyes of a young Kenobi.  

“I spent _years_ ,” Kenobi muttered, “hoping you would speak to me. I called for you, Master Jinn. You left me.”  

 _It wasn’t I who left,_ was the soft, kind reply; but the meaning behind it was harsh, like a dagger in his back.  

“You abandoned me for that _desert rat,_ ” Kenobi hissed. “You signed me away before I was ready! Before I could even finish learning from you!”  

 _And you’ve fallen in love with that ‘desert rat’, it seems. So, Obi-Wan…. Is it really still me at fault? After all these years?_ A caress on the cheek ghosted over Kenobi, and he raised a hand to catch it, but like his faith in the Jedi, the hand he wanted to find wasn’t there; only his own bearded cheek. _It is what it is, Obi-Wan. I should have treated you better, but my only true regret is that I couldn’t stop you and Mariana from falling._ _You might find this beneficial._  

A book fell off the shelf, Kenobi catching it before it could even hit the floor. “I thought only Sith ghosts could interact with their environment,” Kenobi whispered, eyes shocked.  

 _I, too, almost fell from the Jedi…. Once, a long time ago. I had fallen in love with a woman, another Jedi, and her death was my undoing. I, like Quinlan Vos, had my scrapes with the Dark Side, and I courted it like a friendly face. I tried to hide that from you, Obi-Wan. I left the Jedi, yes, and I was a Gray Jedi—but_ _that, too, was not for me._ A laugh, and Kenobi could almost see the man beside him, smiling, laughing. A tear slid down his cheek, a small smile on his face.  

“I miss you,” Kenobi murmured.  

 _I know, my dearest Padawan. I know._ The book became heavy in his hand, as if the weight of his Master’s hand rested on it as well. _You’ll find all your answers in here, I think. Mariana is a very intelligent girl, and I was so, so excited for you when you picked her._   

“Why did you hide from me for so long?” Kenobi whimpered.  

A pause. _You were too angry, too hateful. Anakin…. Anakin seems to replace that anger with pain, but at the same time, you love him so wholly and purely that it pulls you back towards the light. You walk a strange, dangerous path, Padawan. I have faith that you can find your way, with or without knowing I have always been with you._  

“Thank     you,” Kenobi whispered, scrubbing at the tears rolling down his cheeks.  

 _You’re welcome, Obi-Wan. Call for me, and remember, I am always with you._  

The feeling faded, but a smile was still on Kenobi’s face, his hands lingering on the hard cover of the book. All of these books were bound by Mariana, he recalled; she had discovered it while still at the Temple, and she poured her grief of losing him and her anger at the Council into binding books and fighting.  

Or so he was told, anyway.  

In an instant, a heartbeat, he made a choice.  

He opened the cover of the book. _To: Ahsoka. Use this information wisely… Consider this my will…_.   

Kenobi raised a horrified, panicked hand to his mouth in shock, leaning against the bookshelves. If this was true….  

The fate of the galaxy rested on more than just Anakin Skywalker’s shoulders.  

~*~*~

“Anakin, my boy! You look dreadfully tired,” Sheev Palpatine called as Anakin walked into his office, the door sliding shut behind him.  

“You could say that,” the Jedi replied, glancing to a chair before Palpatine waved a hand, allowing the man to sit. Anakin’s head fell into his hands, blond locks of hair cascading across his hands.  

“Anakin,” Palpatine murmured, eyes concerned. “What’s happened?”  

Anakin stumbled over the thoughts in his head, sorting through what he wanted to say and what he didn’t. He carefully filed away the twins; he would have to go visit them soon, anyway, and telling Palpatine might put them in danger. “I’ve been…. Betrayed,” Anakin began, his voice stammering out the words. “By someone I loved. I don’t really want to talk about it, though.”  

Palpatine nodded understandingly, patting his hand. “I am always here for you, my boy. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here.”  

“Kind of,” Anakin muttered, gingerly taking the tea offered to him.  

“I want to tell you the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise,” Palpatine hummed. “It was a story I heard once, from a Jedi friend.”  

“You mean the guy who supposedly cheated death?” Anakin sipped at his tea, shrugging. “The Jedi archives say his apprentice was a little bitch.”  

Palpatine shrugged, though Anakin swore he saw some flicker in the Chancellor’s eyes. “That may be true.”  

Anakin gingerly set his tea down, getting a curious look from the man across from him. “Is there something wrong with it?”  

“It’s very good, I assure you,” he nodded, but gestured to his stomach. “It’s just not sitting well, you know? Lots of stress lately, for no reason.”  

“I wouldn’t say for no reason,” Palpatine consoled. “After all, your Padawan did leave the Order after being Knighted.”  

Anakin kept his face carefully neutral at that. “It was her choice.”  

“And the return of Darth Navini—what do you feel about that?”  

Anakin shrugged. “I killed one Sith. I killed Darth Maul, with the help of Navini. I will slaughter every Sith that stands in my way if I must.”  

“That’s not a Jedi sentiment, now is it, Anakin?” Palpatine hesitantly said, and Anakin only stood, smirking.  

“No, it’s not. But I think you’ve figured out I’m not like them,” Anakin grinned, and left the room without looking back, out into the streets of Coruscant and into the throng of things.

He’d always found Coruscant to be overly populated for his taste.  

Perhaps that was his desert upbringing, he mused. Tatooine was a quiet planet, for the most part; despite being in Hutt Space, despite travelers coming and going. He didn’t miss the heat, nor the sand, but something about the land lulled him to a sense of peace. He wanted to return, to visit his mother; to visit his children, he thought, would be a good remedy to the hate and anger in his soul.  

And so, when he sat in the Council chambers, he told them so.  

“Masters,” Anakin began, his eyes focused on nothing. “I believe it in the best interests of my mission to return to Tatooine.”  

“But you hate sand,” Luminara deadpanned, eyebrow quirked.  

He snorted, suppressing a laugh. “Master Unduli, your humor always lifts my spirits.”  

“I try, my dear boy. I try.” Luminara leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “But do not change the subject. You are asking for a leave of absence, for what?”  

“I…” Anakin hesitated, and then rested his head in his hands. “I’ll be honest with you, Masters. Ahsoka’s leaving the Order has, indeed, wounded me; I feel I failed her, that I should have prepared her better so she could have been the Jedi I believed she could be.”  

“Not telling us the whole story, you are not,” Yoda hummed out, and Mace Windu’s eyes narrowed even further.  

“I’m not,” Anakin admitted. “I feel my connection with the Force has been disturbed, and I need time to get myself where I should be. It could lead to the loss of major battles if I am not properly prepared.”

“To whom will you go, Skywalker?” Yoda asked, eyes narrowed.  

“My mother,” he replied, eyes open and honest. “She and I still talk, obviously. Qui-Gon thought it would be detrimental to my performance as a Jedi if I were completely banned from her, though we rarely talk now. I miss her.”  

“Attachments, Skywalker,” Windu hissed. “There are _rules_ about this!”  

“There are also rules about showing compassion, regardless of who is receiving it,” Anakin snapped, eyes narrowed, “but how rarely have I seen that from you, Master Windu.”  

“Respect your elders, young one,” Luminara softly sighed, though he could feel her agreeing with him.  

“How _dare_ you,” Windu snarled, launching out of his seat. “You ask favors and then _insult_ me!”  

Anakin rose as well, but it was far less aggressive, far less angry. “I was simply insinuating that if you could develop an entire lightsaber form designed to accept and use both yours and your opponent’s anger, and spend your entire _existence_ doing so, I can go to Tatooine and live with my mother on a moisture farm for a few weeks.”  

“He’s got a point,” Master Mundi hummed, who was uncharacteristically silent.  

Anakin     hid his smirk deep down; he knew he won, but wasn’t going to show that. Humility, and _acting,_ had become some of his strong suits. Mace only glared at him further, and then sat back down, Anakin following suit.  

“A point, Skywalker indeed has.” Yoda studied the young Knight, humming to himself the entire time. “Grown, you have as well, Skywalker.”  

“All due respect, Masters, but living with Obi-Wan Kenobi _did_ teach me something,” Anakin smiled. “Like how to keep my mouth shut so I don’t get killed.” Now, that wasn’t entirely Kenobi’s fault; Ventress was a spitfire, and would have killed him if he even so much as flinched at first, but towards the end… well. They didn’t need to know that, he decided.  

“Kenobi was an amazing Jedi,” Luminara breathed, staring at the floor. “He mastered Soresu faster than I could ever even dream of one of my Padawans learning it. He took to everything with this intense need to _know._ ” She looked up. “Is he still like that?”  

Anakin paused, thinking back and ignoring the stabs of pain in his chest. “Yes,” he muttered. “But there is also a lot of fear in him, too.”  

“What’s he afraid of?” Mundi scoffed. “He could bring the entire Republic to its knees if he so desired. He is _that_ good, Skywalker, do you understand that? Do you understand what you survived?”  

Anakin     looked away. _I would like to tell you the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise._ _He tried to cheat death._ “I think he’s afraid of dying,” Anakin hummed, finally. “He’s afraid of having regrets, and living forever as one of the demented ghosts he worships.”  

“ _What?_ ” Luminara gasps. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t be _that_ foolish—”

“Master Luminara, the Kenobi you knew is gone,” Anakin snapped. “Destroyed by the Sith, no doubt. In him lies a devious, manipulative _traitor._ And I’ll be _damned_ if anyone else gets the right to kill him. He blended Nightsister blood magics and the Force, making it more twisted and _dark_ than even the strongest of Sith could dream of.” Anakin shook himself free of the anger, for only a moment, and took a breath. “Even Darth Nihilus would likely fear him.”  

Silence     fell upon the Council floor.  

“Go to Tatooine, you can,” Yoda murmured. “Return in three standard weeks.”  

Anakin     nodded, bowed, and left the Council, his footsteps heavy on the ground as he packed a bag of clothes and what little credits he had, grinning to himself all the while.  

“Snips,” he called into his comm, and she groaned in response.  

“ _Please tell me you’re authorized to kill me,”_ she grunted in response.  

He laughed. “No. I’m going to Tatooine, want to come?”

“ _To your mother? Why would I say no to that?!”_ Ahsoka grinned. “ _I’ll meet you at your room in five minutes.”_

Ahsoka was true to her word, arriving exactly when he expected her, a bag of her items in hand. She grinned at him, excitement finally back into her bones. “Working on a moisture farm sounds better than this shithole.”  

Anakin laughed, hefting his own and draping an arm across her shoulders, walking her to a Temple ship and taking off, finally feeling like he could start healing.

The trip was quiet. He and Ahsoka got into burping contests, argued over Nabian politics, and if Padme was even technically a good queen; Anakin, too heated at the potential of _anyone_ disrespecting his late wife, ended up ignoring her for a good hour after that debate. But they landed safely by the moisture farm, in good spirits, to a grinning Beru and Owen, to a leaping Luke and Leia, and to a teary-eyed Shmi, hugs and squeals and joy all around.  

Anakin and Ahsoka were shooed into the kitchen, Anakin carrying the twins, and Ahsoka chatting happily with Shmi. For once, they decided, they were happy.  

As dinner was served, Luke and Leia both got _very_ fussy. Shmi tried to excuse herself so she could deal with them, but Anakin only shook his head, gesturing back to her seat. “They’re _my_ kids, Mom. You’ve taken care of them long enough.”  

Ahsoka choked on her blue milk, eyes bulging out of her head. “What?”

“Oh dear,” Shmi muttered, and Anakin sighed.  

“Please, not now,” Anakin murmured, holding a squealing Leia as Luke attempted to pull on her shoe.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Ahsoka snapped, rising to her feet. “I could have been here, training them to use their abilities instead of letting it fester away with them, instead of jacking around with you and Quinlan on Lothal!”

“Ahsoka, darling, you’re a Jedi,” Shmi quietly muttered, the woman’s hand on the Togruta’s. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Not anymore,” Ahsoka muttered. “I left the Order. I couldn’t take the tyranny, the disrespect, the _war_ anymore. Kenobi could bring this entire galaxy to its knees and the Republic and Seps would _thank_ him!”  

Anakin     looked away completely, carrying Luke and Leia both up the stairs into the cool desert air. Ahsoka stared at the table, taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. “Excuse my outburst. It was very rude of me.”  

“It was even more so of my son not to tell you of Luke and Leia,” Shmi sighed, shaking her head. “Thank you, Ahsoka. And, if you _do_ what you said about teaching them….”

“I do,” she quietly whispered. “I was trained by Anakin. I think I can teach a couple of younglings some respect.”  

Shmi’s brown eyes grinned, but her face showed more fatigue than anything else. Owen stood, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Mom, please go get some rest.”  

“But I haven’t gotten to talk to Ani yet,” she protested, and Ahsoka only smiled gently.  

“He’s here for the next three weeks, Mom. I think you’ll get to see him again soon,” Ahsoka winked, her grin almost contagious.  

Shmi nodded, and Anakin poked his head in, eyes confused. “Mom?”  

“Yes?” She asked, and Anakin walked in, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I love you,” he muttered, burying his face in her shoulder.  

Shmi hugged him back, almost tighter than Ahsoka thought was humanly possible, and was then showered with kisses, Anakin grinning at the attention from his mother.  

Luke and Leia stumbled in, darting to Ahsoka’s side almost immediately, tugging on the hands of the foreigner. “You Snips, yes?” Luke muttered, blue eyes confused.  

“I’m Snips,” Ahsoka grinned, hefting Luke into her arms. Leia held her hand as the twins directed her outside, into the cold air of the desert night outside.  

“Papa says you’re his adopted daughter,” Leia scoffed, tiny arms crossed and staring up at her.  

Ahsoka paused. “I suppose I am,” she muttered. “I never really thought of it like that.”  

Leia curled her lip at her, glaring at her. “Are you the reason Papa is always gone?”

“No,” Ahsoka shook her head. “No, I’m not, I promise you that. Your papa is a very important man, Leia. He’s very busy, and I know he loves you very much.” Ahsoka sat in the sand, digging for a stone; her hand closed around one, and she grinned, holding it in her open palm. “Watch this,” she grinned, and called on the Force to levitate the stone from her palm.  

Luke and Leia ooo’d and aww’d over it, and then Leia slammed her tiny fists on the ground, eyes narrowed. “Who taught you that trick?” She demanded, eyes narrowed.

“Your father,” Ahsoka grinned. “I’m sure he’d _love_ to teach you, too.”  

And so, Leia stomped her way into the house, pulling her father out into the desert night. “Snips says you taught her how to move the stone without touching it,” she sniffed, arms crossed. “Papa, will you teach me?”  

“And me!” Luke grinned, and Anakin looked to Ahsoka, who smiled gently at him.  

“You didn’t have to do that, Snips,” Anakin quietly muttered as he settled beside her, cringing at the texture of the sand.  

“It’s what Padme would have wanted,” Ahsoka quietly grinned, and Anakin took the stone from her, holding it in his palm as he explained and described the Force to his children. Awestruck children stared up at the familiar stars of Tatooine, listening to their father paint the same picture Qui-Gon had once told him. Ahsoka leaned against him, Luke squirming into her lap and Leia in her father’s, before the little blonde boy boldly assured his father that he, too, would become a Jedi.  

Anakin     looked away, and Ahsoka flinched. “I won’t let you,” Anakin finally muttered. “The pain I’ve seen, Luke, I don’t want that for you.”  

“But Ronin is _so strong!_ And so are you, Papa!” Leia protested, leaning against her father.  

“Strength doesn’t just come from the Force, Leia,” Anakin corrected. “There is strength in love, in passion, in emotion, and there is strength in controlling them, too.”  

“Your mother was very strong,” Ahsoka nodded. “I never knew a stronger, more brilliant woman, in fact.”  

“Was my mama a Jedi too?” Luke asked, and Anakin shook his head.  

“No, Luke. She was a Senator, a former queen. She saved an entire planet from invasion at the Battle of Naboo. She and I grew very close.”  

“Where is she now? Can I meet her?” Leia asked, and Anakin flinched, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Leia, darling,” Anakin murmured, but his voice cracked, and he couldn’t speak anymore. Leia looked at her father in confusion, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“No, Papa, don’t cry!” Leia showered him with kisses, scared she’d offended her father. “I won’t ask again, I’m sorry!”  

“No, Leia,” Anakin finally managed, smiling at her. “Questioning people, questioning authority, that’s good. Question. Learn things, because the day this entire galaxy falls apart is when the people become complacent.”

“Then what about my mama?” Luke whimpered. “What happened to her?”

“She died, Luke,” Anakin murmured. “And I wasn’t strong enough to save her. In fact, I was halfway across the galaxy with Snips when it happened.”  

“Rex saved us that time,” Ahsoka nodded. “Without him, we wouldn’t have caught the people who killed Padme.”

“Are they dead too?” Leia sniffed. “I’ll kill them if they’re not. I’ll kill them for taking my mama from me!”

Ahsoka looked away from Anakin; in that moment, all she could see was the fury of her former master in the rain on Kamino, staring down Jango Fett and Zam Wesell, the two scoundrels responsible for the death     of Padme. She saw the anger as she tried to stop him from killing them, but to no avail; Ahsoka had been fourteen, and it was only her second or third month with Anakin as her Master.

“Yes, Leia,” Ahsoka finally said. “They are.”

Leia nodded, leaping from her father’s arm and picking up a metal rod from the ground, pretending to fence with it. “Good!” She spun in circles, almost like a dance. “Because I would beat them with my stick!”

Anakin only shook his head, grinning at the shenanigans of his children. Luke leapt to face his sister, and she dropped her stick, leaping at him with her full body and playfully fighting him, the two children rolling in the sand.

Luke repeatedly outsmarted Leia, but her focus and determination to thwart her brother was both adorable and terrifying. Ahsoka leaned against Anakin, who draped an arm across her shoulders. “He reminds me so much of Padme.”

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Anakin smiled, and the two kids finally fell into the sand, panting and grinning.

Anakin scooped the kids up and brought them inside, presumably to sleep, but Ahsoka remained outside, staring at the sky.  

Time moved differently here, she decided. It was peaceful, despite being a scoundrel planet. Tatooine managed to govern itself, to remain untouched by the war from the uneducated eye; and out here, in the dunes, there was peace. Peace from the war, peace from the Sith and the Jedi.  

She could be happy here.

“May I join you?” a soft voice asked, and Ahsoka looked to see Beru standing there uncomfortably and fidgeting with the frills of her apron.

“Oh, sure,” Ahsoka nodded, and Beru settled beside her, staring at the stars.

“What’s it like?” she asked. “What’s it like, seeing the galaxy in its best and its worst?”  

“A hell I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy,” Ahsoka muttered, closing her eyes. The ghosts of people she couldn’t save still lingered behind her eyelids, haunting her sleeping hours and every waking moment. Nightmares left her panicked, unable to sleep; and Ahsoka sighed. “I was fourteen when I was assigned to Anakin. I was fourteen when I saw battle for the first time. I was fourteen when I watched Clones I had just met _die_ because I didn’t know what I was doing.”

She scrubbed at her face. “War has destroyed the galaxy, Beru. War has destroyed me, destroyed Anakin. We are just shells of the people we used to be. I left because I couldn’t take it anymore; Anakin has this God-complex, this insane need to fix what’s broken. It’s his Chosen One mentality, I guess; unwanted by the Jedi Council, constantly under scrutiny, constantly questioned. I’m surprised he hasn’t left yet, to be honest.”

“The Jedi sound horrible,” Beru whispered.

“They are just shells of what they used to be, too,” Ahsoka murmured. “Shells of the great peacekeepers that once kept this galaxy whole. Corrupt, like all politicians; stuck in their ways, refusing to change.”

Beru nodded, and then her eyes scanned the horizon. “They call this desert Azul’ir. To any visitors, though, it’s the Northern Dune Sea.” She pointed to the mountains in the far distance, and said, “That’s Anchorhead Pass. Tosche Station is past there. Mos Epsa is past that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ahsoka muttered, and Beru grinned.

“You deserve to know,” she replied, patting Ahsoka’s knee. “Dearest, this is not an abandoned planet. We’re just…. Backwater, I guess, but I like it here. It’s my home.” Beru nodded, and then stood. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ahsoka Tano. I’ll show you around the farm, then, and maybe around Tosche Station if Owen is willing.”  

Ahsoka nodded, and murmured her good night, rolling out her bedroll under the stars that were the only familiar thing.

 

The Togruta, in fact, did not have a good night. Nightmares plagued her, like they always had; she woke up at dawn, in a cold sweat and panting, holding her head in her hands. A dog nudged at her leg, whining as it did so, and waited for her to reach for it. Ahsoka’s hand rested on the dog’s shoulder, the ruddy red fur of the large beast thin and wiry. “You’re a good dog,” Ahsoka nodded, stroking his back as he flopped across her legs.  

“That’s Jasper,” Leia hummed from behind her, and Ahsoka turned, looking at this girl of five who looked so much like her mother but behaved so much like her father. “He’s a stray we found. Kinda hangs around, scares off the sand people and the scavengers.” The girl settled beside her, patting the dog’s thigh. “He likes you.”

Ahsoka shrugged, not saying anything of the matter.

“Is my papa a good man?” Leia asked quietly.

Ahsoka nodded. “One of the best I’ve ever met.”  

Leia hummed in response, leaning against the Togruta. “Papa said that when he leaves to go back to work, you’ll stay,” she sighed, tiny hand wrapping itself in Ahsoka’s.  

“I suppose I can,” Ahsoka grinned. “I don’t have a home, so I might as well make one.”

“Leia,” a tired Shmi chided, “let the girl sleep!”

“She was awake when I found her!” Leia protested, looking back at her grandmother.

“I really was,” Ahsoka nodded, and Shmi sighed, tossing her hair out of her eyes.  

“Where’s your brother?” She asked, and Leia shrugged.  

“He was still sleeping with Papa when I left,” she hummed, leaning back against Ahsoka once more.

Anakin stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of his hiding space, a small and excited Luke tugging at his hand. They settled in the shade of the house at first, watching as the kids pranced around in their boots and worked on droids. Luke was _far_ more adept at mechanics than Leia, but she tried nonetheless, and her determination was what made it all the better.

By sundown, Ahsoka had been shown around the farm, and she’d found a spot in the sands to do her forms; she could lose herself in the movement, like a form of meditation. Anakin found her, but she didn’t notice; and in turn, the twins found them, dancing in rhythm as they moved through the forms, one by one, green and blue lightsabers glowing in the reddening sunset. Luke and Leia watched with awe as the two danced about each other, swirling and slashing and prancing, their attention finally turned to each other.

“Put on a show?” Ahsoka grinned, and Anakin nodded, both adjusting the settings on their sabers. Ahsoka hooked hers together to make a staff, Anakin’s eyes widening in surprise.

“That’s new,” he grinned, and she smirked back.  

“Prepare to eat sand, Skyguy,” she playfully teased, and spun at him with a vicious attack.  

Anakin settled into the opening move of Soresu, grinning at her. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.”  

Ahsoka only grinned, Luke and Leia both cheering for their father—and he won, like he always did, only to be tackled by his two kids, grinning at them as they did so. Ahsoka picked herself up from the sand dunes, shaking the sand from her clothes, and bowed to Anakin, who did his best to reply in like.

She climbed to the roof of the house, watching the sun go down, and she could only think of a small rhyme her mother had told her all those years ago before Master Plo came to get her. _Red skies at night, sailor’s delight; red skies in morning, sailor’s warning._

Was this the peace she had been looking for?

~*~*~

“You are the most insufferable, intolerable, murderous, sociopathic _asshole_ I have ever met!” Avalon roared at Ronin, who only stared at the young Gray Jedi while she finished her rant, sipping at her scotch.

“Are you done yet?” Ronin deadpanned, eyebrows rasied. “I mean, _really.”_

The girl spluttered, then shook her head. “You really are a Sith, aren’t you?”

“I left the Sith in my past, little one,” Ronin hissed. “This _game_ we’re playing is irrelevant and unimportant to the grand scheme of things, and I’m sure of it.”

Maul stared, bored, between the two arguing girls. They, despite their flaws, were his best change at getting out of that damned cell. They shouted at each other for a bit longer before Ronin's comm rang, the girl positioning herself so that Maul wasn't in frame. With a glare to Avalon, she answered it, muttering a, "What is it?"

_"Sheesh, I'm sure you're frustrated, but there's no need to take it out on me."_

The sound of Anakin's voice pulled her back into a sense of peace, the girl grinning. "Oh, Ani, if you only knew. I almost didn't answer; did you change your frequency again?"

 _"No; I'm on Tatooine. With my mom and Ahsoka,"_ he amended, his face tired. _"I managed to talk the Jedi Council into letting me have some vacation time... Kenobi isn't planning anything yet, so I'm not too worried about that."_ He paused, then shook his head. _"Palpatine seems a little sketchy, though. Asking questions that he shouldn't even begin to understand._ "

"Palpatine isn't exactly a trustworthy person, Anakin," Ronin grimaced. "Be wary of him. Trust no one, understand me? No one!"

 _"Kriff, Ron; you sound like my mother,_ " Anakin huffed, his little blue hologram blurring as he moved. _"Ahsoka still follows me around like a lost puppy. I don't know what to do."_

"She doesn't know anything else," Ronin commented, then received glares from both Maul and Avalon. "Look, I have to go. I'll try and comm you later, after this meeting is done. Okay?"

 _"Okay,_ " he replied, his voice tinnier, more hollow than usual.

Even Maul noticed the tension that followed the Jedi's departure, the room how empty and sullen. "Our timetable has moved," Ronin finally amended. "If Palpatine is already raising questions, there is more at hand than I am aware of. I don't know what he's planning, nor what he has in mind, but I still don't like it."

"We don't even have the resources necessary to execute this type of a plan," Avalon hissed out, her gray eyes sharp in the red light of the torches, "let alone to execute it any sooner than we had planned!"

Ronin bit her lip, scrubbing at her eyes. Vision was slowly starting to return, but anything other than gentle light burned and gave her migraines. Most of the time, she kept a piece of thin cloth tied over her eyes to filter the amount of light coming through in the cold desert of Jedha, though as the deep winter was starting to set in, daylight faded even further from sight. Soon, she hoped, there would be little need for the cloth on Jedha, though she knew what she needed to do. "I have to find Kenobi," she muttered, her head resting in her hands.

"What? That's _foolish,_ " Maul snapped, yellow eyes flashing a dangerous gold. "Yes, it is," Ronin snarked back, eyes just as sharp, "but I have to save Anakin. I have to figure out what's going on, and there's _one person_ I can appeal to that won't try to kill me on the spot."

"Kenobi," Avalon nodded. "What about Quinlan? He could be of use."

"And the Protectors," Maul offered, and to a shocked glance, he shrugged. "I don't know, Chirrut is nice to me."

"You're a _Sith_ and you're concerned with whether or not people are _nice_ to you?!" Ronin snarled, and Maul shrugged again.

"It _does_ make me want to kill them less," he humphed, and Avalon shook her head.

"This is madness," she growled. "I have to make sure all the funeral arrangements are in order, and to contact everyone I need to. Excuse me." Avalon stalked out of the room, the tall, lanky girl slinking up the stairs like a graying ghost, her ashy skin and hair only adding to her seemingly ghastly appearance as the light gray sheer overcoat she wore drifted across the sandstone steps painted red and black as night settled in full force on the Holy City.

Ronin sat in silence as Maul studied her, probed her, and then he grinned. "You may not be a Sith by right, Mariana, but you _bleed_ the Dark Side. I feel it, and I know you hear it like dogs nipping at your heels. Give into it."

She shot him a bitter glance, then only replied, "I feel the lies you spread to Avalon. You've claimed reformation but you're only _reforming_ how you influence people, how you change the galaxy."

"Mariana, dearest," Maul sighed, leaning back against the back wall of his cell, half in shadow. "If that's the truth, then what's the difference between me and you?"

She stood, glaring daggers at him. "I have honest intentions."

"Do you?" Maul grinned. "Could've fooled me."

Ronin sighed, rolling her eyes. "You don't know _honest intentions._ You were kidnapped, trained, betrayed, literally cut in half-- what do you know of _honest intentions?_ What do you know of other than betrayal?"

Maul paused, and for once, the Sith that couldn't be caught speechless was speechless. Hesitation was not a characteristic of him, either, and yet, he hesitated. His faith was tested, she realized. Not just tested, but _con_ tested.

Everything he knew was the Sith and at the same time, he was betrayed by the Sith; she helped Anakin cut him in half, Kenobi couldn't get there in time to save him, Sidious replaced him with a more diplomatic apprentice, one that could lead and not just terrify. Kenobi was a side project, one meant for greater potential, and Mariana herself... well, she was something that wasn't supposed to happen. _There is no word in the Sith language for love,_ Kenobi had once told her. _There is only shasot. Passion._ Passion made her a Sith, but her love made her a Jedi. Her ability to balance them, Lors Tekka had once told her, would make her more dangerous than even the Sith could be. Where the Jedi were order and peace, the Sith were chaos and passion; and yet, the Gray Jedi stood alone. The Gray Jedi were not peace, nor were they passion; they weren't chaos, nor order. They were simply _control._ Control over themselves, control over others; _control_ was something both the Jedi and Sith lacked on a personal level. Control made the Sith constrict, leading to near demise; control made the Jedi complacent, corrupt; but the Gray.... they grew _powerful._

She saw all of that pass across Maul's face. She saw everything he knew pass across his face, and then softly, sullenly, he replied, "You're right."

Surprise flickered across her face. "Just to clarify, I'm not imagining this moment, am I? You _did_ just say that I, the fabled Darth Navini, was _right?_ The Mistake of the Sith, as you had once called me? Ronin of Mustafar?"

"You're ruining the moment, Mariana," Maul hissed. "But yes. I did just say that."

Awe crossed her face. "Maybe there is hope for you. Maybe I was, ultimately, wrong." She crouched in front of his cell, tilting her head to stare at him. "The Sith and Jedi will fall. I will crush them under my heel if I must. You understand what you've agreed to, don't you?"

Maul leaned his head against the limestone of his cell, staring at her through tired eyes. "You aren't the only one that wishes to see the fall of the Sith, Mariana. Avalon and I have been planning this for _years._ She, if we follow the plan, will be the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. We're just waiting to time it right."

" _Emperor?_ " Ronin snapped, horror filling her chest. "Empire?! This is a _democracy,_ not a monarchy!"

"Take it up with her," Maul snapped. "She promised me my freedom. I don't care what she does otherwise."

Ronin shook her head, stalking up the steps like an angry teenager, but went out into the streets of Jedha, ghosting down alleys and into the desert.

Snow fell across the dirt, stubby shrubs growing from cracks dusted in white; winter had truly begun, and even more snow could be expected. She picked up her comm, dialing Anakin.

 _"Hey,"_ he snipped, scrubbing at his eyes.

"Sorry, were you sleeping?"

 _"Only because Luke and Leia made me. Are you good now?_ "

"Yeah, yeah." Ronin paused, then sighed. "Listen, Ani.... I'm coming back to Coruscant soon. Maybe, I guess."

 _"You should come to Tatooine,"_ he teased. _"Luke and Leia are incessantly asking about you."_

Ronin smiled, then shook her head. "Yeah, I used to go out there once a month and spend a week with them. I disguised them as shipment runs, but... yeah. I wanted them to understand that people coming and going is natural. With your life, I figured you'd like that too."

His form shrugged. _"I guess. I've got another two and a half weeks here."_

"That's good." Ronin paused, then shook her head. "So what happened with Palpatine?"

 _"He asked questions that he shouldn't know anything about,"_ Anakin muttered. _"Like Ahsoka leaving. Or the story of Darth Plagueis, which you told me--"_ He paused, then narrowed his eyes. _"Palpatine told you that story. And Kenobi, Kenobi left. He was a traitor."_  

Ronin tried to keep her face steady, unreadable, but she sighed, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, he did. Palpatine took to you like a fish takes to water, Ani, and when I learned that Sidious and Palpatine are the same person.... I was worried." But at the realization of what Anakin had said, anger filled her, but she shoved it aside; anger would not help Anakin in that moment.  

Anakin's face froze, the hologram fuzzing a little at the edges. He didn't reply for what seemed like forever, Ronin holding her breath; finally, he breathed, _"Palpatine is Darth Sidious?"_    

"Plagueis was his master," Ronin affirmed.

Anakin huffed, holding his head in his hands. His mechanical hand shone bitterly in the moonlight, enough for the cheap holocommunicator she had to pick up; then, he let out a breath. _"That makes too much sense."_  

"He's manipulating you, Anakin. Grooming you for the Sith," Ronin warned. "I'll comm you once I know more, okay? Avalon and I are coming up with a plan, but you need to stay put. Pretend nothing's wrong. If I can make it to Tatooine, I will, but my beat-up old ship may not be able to handle it."

Anakin numbly nodded, and she hung up after he parroted _I love yous_ to her, her white hair falling into her eyes. But she dialed Kenobi nonetheless, anger in her bones. "Hey, asshole! You know who this is. You want me? Come and _get me._ " She them rattled off her coordinates, and then waited.

This was a mess, and she knew it. She could almost hear Qui-Gon in her ear, whispering, _No, you brilliant fool, he'll own you! Break you, all over again!_

But she was stronger than him. He had _made_ her stronger than him.

A surge of hatred filled her once again. He'd hurt her. He'd hurt everyone she loved, and now, he hurt Anakin. That was an inexcusable offence. He could hurt her, she thought as a ship landed in front of her, but he couldn't hurt her friends.

She was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello i've returned  
> sorry about the long wait for this chapter, there was a bunch of medical issues in the family and emotional/mental fuck-ups (because sid is a medicated asshole that writes to keep their sanity) that prevented me from being as speedy as I wanted, but also, i got some really poetic scenes and the plot really flourished. So, take this fourteen-thousand-word chapter and HAVE FUCKING FUN.   
> go yell at me on tumblr. my url is sabeanwren, and request little ficlets on there. i've got nothing better to do with my life.


	10. { t e n }

{ p a r t  I I I }

_ “Remember, darling,” a familiar voice cooed to her, smiling. “There is no death, there is the Force.”  _

_ “Master, you’ve gone over this with me hundreds of times,” she protested, crossing her tiny pale arms over her chest.  _

_ “Patience is also a virtue, Mariana. There is a reason why I keep repeating the Code to you, dearest.”  _

_ “Kenobi!” Quinlan Vos called from behind him. Her master turned his head, auburn hair falling across his shoulders.  _

_ “What is it, Vos?” Kenobi sighed, eyes tired.  _

_ The Kiffar only grinned before he said, “We've been given a mission.” Kenobi immediately perked up, and even his new Padawan noticed.  _

_ “We’re going Sith hunting?” Kenobi grinned, blue eyes flickering with something more, something darker.  _

_ Vos grinned. “You got it, pretty boy. You, me, and your Padawan.”  _

_ Kenobi’s smile faltered a bit, but Mariana lit up. “Really? That's so cool! Master Vos, you're a legend! I've read all your holorecords, all the things you've done for the Order--”  _

_ Vos raised a hand to silence her, and he looked down at her, the foot difference in height almost staggering. “You're an interesting girl, darling.” He took her by the chin and studied her, grinning.  _

_ “I’ve heard stories about how the Padawan chooses the Master, but I've never quite seen it in action until now.” Vos shifted his brown eyes to Kenobi, who shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Our tight departure, unfortunately, leaves us with little time for fucking around. I've taken the liberty of having Luminara help me stock the ship, 'cause Force knows you wouldn't trust me if I had done it myself.”  _

_ “Damn right,” Kenobi muttered, and Vos gave him a small, tight-lipped smile.  _

_ “I’ll meet you there,” Vos muttered, tossing his dreadlocked hair out of his eyes and stalking down the corridor.  _

_ Months later, they dragged their weary feet to the Temple’s Council room, the tired eyes of the Council staring them down. Bruises littered the pale Mariana’s exposed skin, though she tugged her sleeves down to hide it; scrapes decorated the dark skin of Quinlan, the red skin burning an angered color with infection. The only one that seemed remotely unharmed was Kenobi, but there was a rage under his serene surface, like a river that seemed calm on the surface but the current under it was a whitewater rapid.  _

_ “The Sith are alive and well,” Kenobi announced, and silence fell in the echoing chamber.  _

_ “That's not possible,” Mace finally sighed. Mariana’s eyes lit up with a fury, but she did not speak in defense of her master.  _

_ “Are you  _ fucking  _ kidding me?” Quinlan hissed. “We spent the last ten months slaving away for you, tracking down the Sith-- and we have! Why are you acting like Maul was the only one? Like he was a lone wolf?”  _

_ “There is no substantial proof of a second Sith, Vos. Watch your mouth,” Eeth Koth snapped, and Kenobi’s mouth became a pressed, thin white line.  _

_ “The threat still lingers, Council,”  Kenobi muttered, but did not press the matter.  _

_ Mariana, though, would not take no for an answer.  _

_ “Esteemed Masters,” she finally began, ignoring the anger in her master's gaze. “I have faced Darksiders with intent to scrabble to be the next Sith Apprentice. We did not encounter another Sith, no, but there is a rule of two; Maul was not alone, and we don't know who replaced him.” She took a breath, balling her fists. “I did not spend my last ten months as a Padawan in vain, Masters. I am fifteen. And this is a war boiling on the precipice of all-out genocide; how can the Jedi stand idle when I, a Padawan of ten months, can even see that there is something bigger than all of us coming?”  _

_ “She has a point,” Ki-Adi Mundi murmured, scrubbing at his face. “Just, don't do anything too reckless until the Council has a decision. Understood?”  _

_ “Understood,” the trio echoed back, stalking out of the room.  _

_ That night, Obi-Wan Kenobi left his Jedi home, flying off to face what he thought to be the new Sith Apprentice; he only met Darth Maul there, alongside Count Dooku and Darth Sidious. He was brought to his knees, taught his place; he was a servant until it was his time to unleash hell on his former companions. _

_ He didn't think of Mariana, or the years she would spend sobbing over his memory with only his lightsaber retrieved from the scene of what they assumed was his death. He didn't think of the years Quinlan and Mari would spend beating each other into the ground, sabers burning their skin as if it were a minor inconvenience if it meant they could feel something other than this emptiness they felt inside. He didn't think of his friends in the Jedi Order, and he didn't, not until Mariana stood in front of him, a brave seventeen year old girl with short hair and fury in her gaze, betrayal on her lips. She had grown, without him, and she had lived without him. Instead of shock at the sight of his former Padawan, of this girl he had cared for deeply as if she were his child at one point, he only saw untapped potential, a bare block of clay to be molded and sculpted into the assassin he and his master needed.  _

_ Her blows were proof to him, then, that she had power beyond her years, that her rage and pain had fueled her in his absence. He caressed her cheek as he pulled her out of the rubble, the body of Satine crushed beyond recognition, his tears dripping onto her dirty face.  _ And what a beautiful weapon you'll be, _ he muttered to himself, hauling the broken and bleeding girl over his shoulder as they scurried from the smoking rubble, revenge on Kenobi’s tongue.  _

Kenobi stared at the girl in front of him, memories flashing back to him as she slowly stirred from her slumber. She lazily lifted her head, eyes narrowing as they struggled to focus on the person in front of her. When she identified him, the look of confusion turned to one of sadistic mirth. 

“You  _ fucking _ coward,” she snarled at him. “Couldn't finish the damned job, like a  _ man, _ so you capture me instead!” 

Kenobi didn't reply right away, golden eyes narrowed as he stared at the white-haired girl. She returned his furious gaze, though her fury was much more obvious than his. “I have orders, you know.” 

Ronin scoffed. “Sidious wants me dead, you know that.” 

“Regardless of what he wants, my orders were to bring you back  _ alive. _ I'd much rather strike you down and watch Skywalker fall to his knees further, but I have larger plans for him than I do for you.” The tip of Kenobi’s obsidian blade caressed her jaw, the girl yanking her head away. She bared her teeth at him, struggling against her restraints. Something was off. She could feel an integral part of her missing, like it was absent completely--  _ oh.  _ One look at Kenobi, in the cell with her, told her all she needed to know. 

“A Force-blocking cell,” she stated, tilting her head. “I'm impressed, I’ll admit. Yet you remain in here?” 

“I trained you too well at my own games to hope to be able to win in a fair fight. The student has surpassed the master, and if you weren’t an  _ annoying _ thorn in my side, I would be proud of you.” Kenobi flipped the knife into his palm, eyes never leaving his former Padawan. “You were fourteen when you came to me. Remember?” 

“Yes,” she snapped. “Biggest mistake of my  _ life.” _

“I would be inclined to agree, but even so....” Kenobi stood, trailing his fingers down her exposed collar to the hem of her tied tunic, pressing against her chest and shoving her into the wall. “You always made such a  _ lovely _ prize.” 

“I am no prize to be won,” she snarled. “You made me a weapon.  _ You made me like this! _ ” 

Kenobi nodded, dancing the edge of the knife along his fingers as it flickered and flashed in the moonlight. “Indeed, I did.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Golden eyes met golden, though one was Sith, and the other just was bathed in the total eclipse of the Dark. Secretly, they both could agree that if you asked who was who in that moment, they would tell you they didn’t know. “You were a  _ child _ . Drawn to my power, drawn to my  _ name. _ Out of all those scrambling to be my Padawan, I chose  _ you, _ and how useless and how  _ uncivilized _ you were!” 

She spat in his face, the Sith calmly brushing it from his face with only the slightest of annoyance. His eyes, though, told the story of rage, of unbridled fury. Nothing terrified her more, she realised. Kenobi’s fury was something she had never wanted to see, but had seen anyway. “I killed for you,” she snarled at him, and Kenobi snorted, showering her neck with kisses. 

“And you enjoyed it,” he snarled back, voice low, eyes flashing. “You relished in the pain you caused, and quite frankly, dearest, you  _ begged _ for it.” 

She knew he was right, but kicked at him to get him away from her nonetheless. “Even so, I am not a  _ toy _ for you to use!” 

Her strength, Kenobi admitted, was admirable, though annoying. He shoved her against the wall once more, hand tight around her throat and his face centimeters from hers. “You were _always_ my toy,” he snarled, his hand almost hoisting her up against the wall as she clawed at his hand. Bloody half-moons were left in the pale flesh, but it was no matter; they would scar, like every other wound from her he had. “You were always my plaything, my fucktoy, my weapon, my _assassin_. I made you _my_ bitch and you were _trained as such._ Like a good whore, like a good girl. You were _nothing_ more than that!” 

“Not.... Anymore,” she gasped at him, eyes sliding in and out of focus. “I.... Will not.... Be your slave.” 

She fell limp in his arms, and he roared with fury, tossing her aside like a rag. He shook with his rage, the limestone walls his next target as he beat his hands bloody before marching down the hall, almost stumbling with the Force rushing back into him. He couldn't feel Mariana in the cell, praise the stars; if he could, he probably would have beaten her senseless more than he already had. The bruises that had littered her pale skin were purple from his time with her on the ship, some of the burns from their fight; she had aged like a fine wine, better with time. 

It was infuriating. These variables jacked holes in his plan, in his safety net, risking his own life alongside his friends’. It potentially jeopardized everything, even, though he was likely only thinking about the worst-case scenario.

_ Not my slave, _ he scoffed.  _ She has always been my slave, playing into my hand every time. She doesn't understand her disadvantage.  _

Ventress fell into step alongside him, everyone else scattering away from the fuming duo. “I heard that whole conversation,” Ventress breathed, a sense of awe in her voice. “I can't believe you stood up to her like that!”

Kenobi didn't reply, storming out into the lobby. Immediately the droids there went to attack, but the Sith shot out his hand and ripped them apart before any blaster bolts could be fired. The Force rippled around him, darkness seeming to pour from every inch of his body. The Darksider stumbled away from her friend, gaping at his sudden burst of rage. His power seemed to stem from his pent-up emotions, from his charm, from being everything he was told not to be. Briefly, the idea that maybe Kenobi got his strength, his power, out of defiance and spite; he was everything he was told not to be. He fought and killed and maimed, all to further his goal. He trained his dearest Padawan into a weapon to suit his needs. Obi-Wan Kenobi had no ounce of Jedi left in him, Ventress nodded. No Jedi, but she didn’t think he was totally a Sith either. 

Droid parts lay scattered about the room, Kenobi’s feet finding their way around them as Dooku rushed out into the hall, only to see Kenobi standing in the center of the room with a shocked, confused, and alarmed Ventress in the corner, almost cowering away from the presence of her former master. 

“Dammit, Kenobi!” Dooku hissed. “Those are  _ expensive.” _

“Sidious requests your presence on Coruscant,” Kenobi snapped, though his voice was far more calm, far more controlled than he expected. “And you are to take Eeth Koth with you.” 

“Your blabbering Jedi plaything?” Dooku questioned, eyes narrowing as he wondered if Kenobi was just ignoring him or too frustrated with Ronin to even bother at an attempt at out-sassing the tired, elder Sith. “Quite frankly I don't think he’s ready to execute the plan--” 

“That's no matter,” Kenobi growled. “I have eight months to get another one. I will meet you on Coruscant; I have  _ plans _ I need to attend to.” 

“What about Navini?” Dooku snarled. 

Kenobi paused. “Let her go.” He stalked down towards his ship, the glinting Nabian custom beauty sitting in dormant wait. “She wants to play games, and this game has only begun.” 

Ventress watched him go, alarmed, and then raced after him, leaving a stunned Dooku in the shadows. “Kenobi! Wait up!” She called to him, and Dooku only scoffed at his precious droids, smoking and sparking, shaking his head. 

“I don’t take orders from  _ children, _ ” he growled. One of the servants cowered in the corner, and Dooku pointed to them, eyes narrowed. “You! Clean this up, take them to the recycling bin. Then...” Dooku sighed, pressing his hand against his face. “Then go make you and everyone else something nice to eat.” 

“Sir?” the boy questioned, but the Count was gone, his vermillion cape sweeping the halls in the same elegance the Count commanded. 

*~*~*

Count Dooku did not, in fact, release Mariana. She sat in a cell, and fed decent food after the Count and two others had left. A small boy say across the hall from her, one of Dooku’s servants, and it was him that had let Mariana out of her chains so she could move freely about her cell. 

“So, Z’ev,” she called to him, and the dark-skinned boy lifted his head. 

“Yes?” He asked quietly, voice quivering. 

“How long has it been since Revis brought me here?” 

The boy paused, calculating the days in his head. His gray eyes flickered back and forth from brick to brick on the floor, and then said, “You were unconscious for three days when Master Revis brought you. You did not handle entering the cell well, and you spent a good day howling in Mando'a at Master Revis.” He then nodded, sighing. “And then you've been asleep since Master Revis last saw you for another ten hours, at least. So three and a half to four days, I would say.” 

Mariana nodded, then picked up the loaf of bread from the tray in front of her. “How long will Revis be gone?” 

The boy shrugged, whittling away at his little block of wood. “I cannot say.” 

“You don't speak like an eight-year-old,” Mariana blurted out. 

The boy paused, then grinned. “Master says that ignorance is not the way he would want to live his life. He taught me and my entire family how to read and write, as well as basic arithmetic, and when I'm not working, I spend a lot of my time reading.” 

“You can read?” Mariana grinned, her face lighting up. 

“Yes, can't you?” The boy murmured. 

“I used to,” she sighed, and then waved her hands in front of her eyes. “But I've been blind for ten years now. Revis took my sight because I displeased him and his Master, Darth Maul.” 

The boy paled. “Master is kind, as long as we don't do anything out of line. If you follow the rules here, you’ll be rewarded. Master Revis, though, is another story. He spends far too much of his time with his knives and in meditation. He often comes back bloody and barely breathing.” 

Mariana nodded. “Yes, I know. I have a question,” she began, and the boy raised an eyebrow. “I can get you out of here, if you want to leave. All you need to do is bring me a comm and tell me where Dooku went.” 

The boy paused. “He employs my entire family,” he huffed. “But I’ll bring you a comm. It’s not fair for you to be pinned like this.” 

He stood, leaving the limestone halls, and returned a few hours later with a couple of comms, the tinny, cheap material glinting dully in the light. “I didn’t know where you needed to comm, and you’re part of the Sith. As for Master, I heard Revis telling him to go to Coruscant. You can figure out the rest,” the boy attested, and then stalked away, probably to remove himself of any chance of being interrogated for what she’d say. 

She grinned and fiddled away at the wires, grinning tiredly as she did so. 

A frequency she knew by heart was pressed into the keypad, and she  _ prayed _ it worked. She held her breath as it rang, whispering hope into her soul. 

_ “Mace Windu, _ ” the tired voice of one of her former masters chirped. 

“My, you sound pleasant for once in your life,” Mariana grinned, and she could  _ hear _ the disapproval from the other end of the line. 

_ “What do you want, Chayten?”  _ Mace growled.  _ “I don’t know what time it is on Jedha, but I’m sure as hell it’s three in the morning here.”  _

“Well, I’m uh, not on Jedha. I don’t know where I am, for that matter, so it doesn’t matter really what time it is.” 

Silence.  _ “What did you do?” _

“I got into a fight with Kenobi and lost. My point is that I need rescuing, but my situation isn’t dire. Dooku, possibly Kenobi and Ventress, and someone else is on their way to Coruscant.” 

_ “Thanks for the heads-up,”  _ Mace snapped.  _ “But do you have any idea where you are?” _

“The boy who brought me the comms addressed Dooku as Master, so wherever the fuck Dooku lives would be my guess,” she growled, and Mace sighed. 

_ “Are you in dire need of rescuing? I know where you are, but Skywalker would get there faster than me.”  _

“No, no, I’m okay. I’m in a Force cell, but other than that, I’m relatively unharmed save for bruises and the  _ extreme _ want to beat Kenobi’s head in.” She scrubbed at her face, sighing. “Get here when you can. Be careful of Kenobi; he’s a rabid animal ready to strike.” 

She heard Mace’s hesitation, and then he said,  _ “Your mother said that to me before she had you.”  _

A small smile graced her tired face, and she sighed. “I’m not my mother, Mace. Get here when you can; I can handle myself.” 

She crushed the comm under her heel, resting her head against the limestone cell. This was going to be a long wait. 

A few hours later, a loud, thunderous series of footsteps came cascading down the stairs. She looked up in confusion, the cell door thrown open by a confused and  _ clearly _ upset Kenobi. “Let’s go,” he snarled, grabbing her by her hair and slapping Force cuffs on her. “We’re going for a ride.” 

She fought tooth and nail to get out of his grip as he dragged her down the hallway, the Sith eventually growling and knocking her out with the Force and carrying her up the stairs, Ventress standing in his ship’s cockpit as he tossed Mariana onto a couch and settled into the pilot’s seat. “Set course for Tatooine,” he finally sniffed, golden eyes blazing. 

~*~*~

_ Anakin woke up to Luke nuzzling his father, sound asleep, with Leia reading in the corner.  _ His blue eyes settled on the brown of his daughter’s, her tiny mouth forming words silently as she read them. “What’re you doing, babe?” 

She didn’t look up, but she sighed. “Bail said that if I want to change the world, I have to read. A lot! He taught me how to read, and I’m teaching Luke and Nana.” 

His dark-haired daughter sat cross-legged on a stack of crates, Anakin sitting up. “Well, what are you reading?” 

“It’s the legends and history of the Old Republic,” she hummed. “I also have a ton of holos on mechanics, math, and a few others. Snips is supposed to download me more, so I can learn and teach Luke.” 

Anakin smiled, walking over to his daughter and gently taking the book from her. “That’s very noble of you, Leia. You’re very smart, and I’m very proud of you.” 

She flashed him a toothy grin. “Luke learns just as fast as I do, but he can’t sit still long enough to read books. So I read them for him, and teach him what I learned.” 

He wrapped her in a tight hug, grinning. “I’m so proud of you, Leia. You and Luke and Nana, and all of you. I couldn’t have asked for a better family.” 

Leia snuggled up to him, his arms tight around her as she pressed her face into his neck. “I don’t want you to leave, Papa.” 

“I’ll come back,” he promised, kissing her on the top of her head. “I always do, ‘specially when I have something to fight for.” 

Her little face lit up, and he winked at her, the twin suns finally breaking the horizon as color kissed the desert. Shmi came down the steps into the borrowed room, smiling as she watched her son grin over his two children. She stalked back up the stairs, eyes smiling, and turned to Ahsoka. “I’ve never seen him this at peace.” 

Ahsoka nodded, a small smile on her face. “I’m glad he’s happy.” 

A shrill scream came from outside, and Ahsoka’s smile faded instantly to shock, then worry, as she scrambled out the door and across the sands. 

Beru stood face to face with Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man’s red blade level with the woman’s neck as he held Ronin by her hair. Ahsoka paled, but her hands locked to her sabers in an instant. “Let her go, Kenobi.” 

“Bring me Anakin,  _ then  _ we’ll negotiate,” Kenobi snapped, not tearing his eyes from Beru. 

“What is this?!” Anakin shouted from the doorway, the twins clinging to his legs even as he desperately tried to hide them from Kenobi’s sight. Owen stole them away, deeper into the house, and Kenobi only grinned, tossing Beru aside as if she were a doll. 

“Anakin Skywalker, I have a proposition for you,” he growled, shoving Ronin to her knees in front of him. “Your life for your dearest friend’s.” 

“Don’t do it, Anakin,” Ronin shouted, and Kenobi snarled, cuffing her across the back of her head with his hand. 

“Shut your mouth,” he growled, leveling his gaze with Anakin. “Come now, Anakin. Surely we can come to a conclusion here.” 

Anakin’s eyes flicked to Ahsoka, whose green sabers had since ignited and were readied to strike against Kenobi. Ronin began rambling in Huttese, Anakin’s eyes rambling as he processed what she was saying. Ahsoka, though, didn’t understand, and apparently, neither did Kenobi. 

He grit his teeth and called upon the Force, swirling darkly around him and Ronin, though neither Anakin nor Ahsoka could process why they could feel him and Ventress, who stood in anxious wait in the ship, but not Ronin. She struggled to breathe, and before she could pass out, Anakin shouted, “No, wait!” 

Ronin’s face relaxed with relief as she gasped in air, falling face-first into the sand as she gathered her breath. “You  _ idiot, _ ” she choked out, and then was hauled to her feet, then shoved towards Ahsoka. 

The Togruta caught the stumbling woman, dropping her sabers in the process; the woman struggled free of her cuffs, Ahsoka eventually cutting them off of her as Anakin warily walked towards Kenobi, eyes forward, shoulders squared. 

“ _ No, Anakin, it’s a trap!” _ Ronin shouted, calling one of Ahsoka’s sabers into her hand as she spun across the sand, her bare feet prancing with seemingly no effect on the desert dunes as Ronin’s borrowed blade crossed Kenobi’s. 

Anakin immediately drew his, launching into battle alongside his friend without a single hesitation. Ahsoka grabbed Shmi, stopping the woman from running to her son, and then pointed to Beru. “Get her out of here. Get Owen, get the twins, and  _ get out of here. _ I will find you when this is over.” She called her saber into her hand and ran off towards the ship, shouting at the torn woman. Shmi shook herself free of the shock that followed, taking Beru under the arms and almost dragging her behind the house before she went back in. 

Ahsoka ran up the dock of the ship, almost immediately ducking under the red blade of Ventress. The cord around Ahsoka’s neck that held Ventress’ master’s kyber barely escaped the hum of the blade, blue eyes of the Nightsister widening in shock as she realized what she’d done. 

Ahsoka skidded to a halt, her heel slamming against the far wall of the hallway. “Are we really doing this?” she asked softly, eyes hurt. “Are you leaving, like everyone else?” 

Ventress looked away. “Tano, don’t start.” 

The Togruta leveled her green saber at the Nightsister, eyes flashing. “ _ Traitor.” _

“I have orders!” she howled in response, but met Ahsoka’s blade anyway, almost begging her not to start. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Ahsoka finally quipped, her voice even, anger permeating her very soul. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” 

With a roar, Ahsoka twirled into her friend’s blade, spinning with a vicious ferocity that Ventress had not seen before; she struggled to match the lime green blade, even with her two sabers, and eventually tossed one aside in favor of the curved hilt of her dominant blade. 

Ventress settled in Soresu, eyes  _ pleading _ with Ahsoka to stop. But the former Jedi only called the other saber of Ventress’s into her hand, the red blade level with Ventress’s throat. 

“Checkmate,” Ahsoka croaked out, a glare that could freeze Mustafar heavy on her gaze. 

Outside, Anakin and Ronin tore into Kenobi, rage and desperation swirling around them in a black storm. It was almost impossible for Kenobi to keep up with the two of them, but his anger, his pain, and his fear controlled him, guided his blade in an elegant display of power and skill. Red clashed with blue and green, howling as the trio raged in the rising sunlight. 

Anakin’s blade crossed Kenobi’s, insatiable speed clashing against elegant fury. Blue was reflected in gold, both walking dangerously in the shadows, and they twirled apart in the same speed and fury they connected with, Kenobi to catch Ronin’s leaping slash and kick her back into a dune that had gathered around them. Anakin charged again, but this time he caught tears streaming down the Sith’s face; the tears cleaned lines of dirt from the ginger’s face, though they danced in sand. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and agony shrouded every step and strike he took. 

Kenobi took Anakin’s split second of hesitation as he processed what was actually happening and kicked him at least ten feet back, the Jedi skidding across the sand as Ronin came down for another strike, but Kenobi’s blade found its way into her torso, the woman gasping in shock. 

“No!” Anakin shouted, almost at the same time Ahsoka did, Ronin looking down at Kenobi in shock. 

He withdrew his blade, Ronin immediately falling to her knees. She gasped for breath, but there was no pain on her face. In fact, there was a bit of a smile, even as the red blade of her former lover came down in an elegant arc, the woman’s head immediately dropping to the sand. 

Anakin stared on in shock, sweat dripping from his body, and Kenobi turned his furious gaze to him. “I gave you the chance, Skywalker. This is  _ your _ fault.” 

Anakin couldn’t reply, blue eyes focused on his friend’s dismembered body. He barely registered being grabbed by his hair, dragged onto the ship, and Ahsoka being quickly thrown off, the Togruta rolling in the sand as she bounced against the ground. 

She laid there for a moment, trying to gain her bearings, as the ship took off, with Anakin and an emotionally destroyed Ventress on board with a completely different Kenobi than the sarcastic, kind, but still unstable man she’d once lived with. 

Shmi ran out of the house once she’d decided the ship was far enough gone, only to stop in shock as she looked at a kneeling Ahsoka, who hovered over Ronin’s body. Shmi gasped, and Ahsoka looked up, the same fear and confusion mirrored in the Skywalker woman’s eyes. 

Luke ran to Ahsoka’s side to mourn over Ronin, but Leia stopped at the glint of her father’s blade in the sand. She knelt, her wrapped hands clenching tight around the blade as she hugged it to her chest, sobbing into the sand. 

“I know a place we can bury her,” Shmi finally said, and Ahsoka nodded, numbly walking alongside the woman. 

They spent the entire day digging out a spot for Ronin, but Ahsoka excused herself from the actual ceremony. She spent her time packing her items, gathering the mental strength she would need to face this. 

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” Beru gasped as Ahsoka clipped her two green sabers to her belt and shoved Ronin’s blue and gold sabers in her bag. 

“Packing, what does it  _ look  _ like?” Ahsoka snapped, blue eyes tense. 

“You can’t just leave!” the girl snapped back, eyes wild. “What if that  _ maniac _ comes back?” 

“That  _ maniac _ has my master, my  _ friend _ , on his ship,” Ahsoka snarled back. “I’m taking the twins and getting them to safety before I go after Kenobi and Ventress.” 

“You can’t be  _ serious, _ ” Beru deadpanned. “Shmi won’t let you take them.” 

“Yes I will,” Shmi whimpered from the doorway. Beru whirled around, eyes wide. Before the girl could reply, the elder sniffed, “Ahsoka and I discussed this as a fallback plan. Wherever you’re taking them, whoever you’re taking them  _ to, _ ” Shmi continued, “make sure they’re safe. Please.” 

“I know a guy,” she winked, a small smile on her face. “He’s always wanted kids. His wife is barren, though.” 

Shmi raised her hand, silencing her from saying any further information. “It’s best I don’t know, Ahsoka.” 

The Togruta nodded. “Of course.” 

Later, the twins followed a tired, weary Ahsoka onto her small ship, Leia’s blood boiling as she gripped her brother’s hand, her other hand clenched around her father’s lightsaber. She stared down at it in awe, the cool metal still too big for her tiny hand to fit around. Luke gave her a reassuring squeeze, and the younger Skywalker grinned, returning her brother’s s gesture of comfort. Ahsoka herded them into the ship, murmuring small words to them as her exhaustion set in. Shmi watched them go, praying to whatever gods there were to keep her family safe. 

~*~*~

_ “Master Windu, we have a problem.” _

The said master hung his head in his hands, knowing in his  _ blood _ Skywalker did something,  _ again. _ It wasn’t uncommon, but the distressed look on her face was enough. “What now?” He groaned, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

_ “Long version or short version?” _ the Togruta asked, the Jedi Master then sighing again. 

“The  _ accurate _ version, Tano.” 

The girl sighed, and then said,  _ “Basically, Kenobi showed up and fucked things up, Ronin is dead, and he has Anakin.”  _

Mace’s stunned silence was a shock to the former Jedi. Normally, when she called in problems, she got long, elongated sighs and disapproving glares, but this was something completely different. His silence left her worried, left her tense. She had hoped she’d be able to rely on the tough, immovable logic of Master Windu to help her brainstorm on what to do, but she didn’t know if he could help her. “Now what?” he finally asked, scrubbing at his face. “Tano, it’s early in the morning. What do you want me to do about it?” 

_ “By the Force, Windu!”  _ Ahsoka snapped, her eyes sharp.  _ “You old Jedi, always tripping over yourselves in your haste to get nothing done. Anakin Skywalker, my master, your Chosen One is missing! He could die, he very well might die, and you’re like, ‘oh, there’s nothing we can do, kid. Sorry.’ How  _ **_ridiculous_ ** _ is that?!”  _ She howled at him, and Windu sighed. 

“Without any idea where Kenobi might have taken Skywalker, I can’t say we can help you, Tano. I hate to say this, but you’re on your own.” 

He immediately regretted his choice of words, but not his decision. Ahsoka’s fury was evident, and he knew better than to test her; sure, he could best her in combat, but Ahsoka was  _ very _ witty, and very patient. While Skywalker may not have been able to keep her in the Order, he didn’t do too bad when it came to teaching her.  _ “I see,” _ she carefully said, reining in her emotions as her face turned placid, completely unreadable.  _ “Thank you for your time, Master Windu. I will not contact you again.” _

She cut the comm, her blue holo vanishing from existence. The Jedi Master sighed, pressing his face into his hands and relishing the cool air in his quarters in the temple. 

His eyes flicked to the chrono on his nightstand.  _ 02:21. _ He groaned, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Windu stood, pulling a light robe over his sleep shirt and stalked through the deserted hallways down to the training rooms. 

He was surprised to see the blurring form of Quinlan Vos, Temple Guards stalking around him as they sparred in the early hours. Though, once one saw Master Windu, they called a halt, much to Quinlan Vos’s confusion, who then turned to see the tired master staring at him. 

“Master Windu,” Quinlan nodded. 

“Master Vos,” Windu returned, then his shoulders slumped. “Might I confide in you, Quinlan?” 

“Ooooh, a first name! This is important. ‘Scuze us, boys,” Vos grinned, leaning on his metal staff as the guards started filing out of the room. 

“No, no, they can stay, I suppose. This will be news tomorrow after the Council’s briefing to the Senate anyways, so they might as well know.” Mace Windu took a deep breath, then said, “Ahsoka Tano commed me, about ten minutes ago. She informed me that Mariana Chayten is confirmed dead, killed by Obi-Wan Kenobi, who also now holds Anakin Skywalker captive.” 

“That’s not good,” Vos grimaced, shaking his head. “What are the Jedi doing about it?” 

“Officially? Nothing. We can’t really do much with our resources spread so thin, but I am willing to spare one or two Jedi to go join Tano in her search.” Windu winked, and then stalked down the hallway. 

“Did he just wink at me?” Vos asked, and the nearest Temple Guard shrugged. 

“It would appear so, sir,” the guard replied, and Quinlan Vos grinned, yanking his staff out of his ground and shaking his head. 

“Windu, you sly, old dog,” Vos muttered, shaking his head and waving off the training squad. “Good night, boys. Sleep well.” 

Vos strolled down the halls, grinning to himself, and as he approached his rooms, he tapped his comm, selecting Ahsoka’s frequency. 

_ “What?!”  _ she snarled, and Vos whistled. 

“Hello to you too, Snips,” he grinned, slipping onto his room. “Heard you could use a hand.” 

Her shocked silence was enough to make the Jedi grin.  _ “Did Mace put you up to this?”  _

“Not officially, but yes, he informed me and basically left his order open to interpretation. Besides, I’m the best tracker in the galaxy and Kenobi is my specialty.” He opened Aayla’s door, gently waking her as he shook her shoulder. “Where do you want us to meet you?” 

_ “Us?”  _ Ahsoka asked, and Aayla wearily opened her eyes to glance up at her master. 

“Yes, us, Snips. Aayla’s coming too,” he winked, and the relief from the other side of the comm was enlightening. 

_ “Meet me on Alderaan,” _ Ahsoka finally replied.  _ “There’s a lot you’ll have to be filled in on if you’re to help. I won’t do it over the lines, though, so you’ll have to wait like my contact. Just tell them you’re looking for Bail Organa, and tell them who you are. They’ll let you in.” _

Awareness returned to Aayla’s eyes, and Quinlan nodded. “I’ll meet you there, Snips.” 

_ “Thank you, Quinlan.” _

“Don’t thank me yet,” he sighed, and cut the comm, nodding to Aayla. “Get dressed. We’ve got a mission.” 

A few hours later, they landed on Alderaan in the early hours of the morning, sunlight kissing the horizon in shades of grays, the chilly, snowy climate different than Coruscant’s hot smog. Guards greeted him and Aayla as they disembarked, swept them for explosives, and then escorted them rather cheerfully down the hallways of the palace they’d been informed to land at. 

Ahsoka stood in the white marble grand throne room, her black leather a stark contrast against the pristine of the palace; she spoke to Bail Organa, the black-haired senator that had married into the Alderaanian royal family, and when Ahsoka sensed Quinlan’s approach, she whirled in excitement, tackling the taller Jedi in a hug. “Thank you for coming, Quinlan, especially on such short notice.” 

“Anything for my friends,” he grinned, and Ahsoka smiled gently, nodding to Aayla. “Secura. You’ve grown, I see.” 

“You look stronger,” the quiet Twi’lek replied, and Ahsoka smiled at the ground. 

“I have to be,” she muttered back, and then a small girl ran up to Ahsoka, tugging her back towards Bail. 

“Bail Organa, Jedi Master Quinlan Vos and his Padawan, Aayla Secura. Vos is the best tracker in the galaxy, and he’ll be helping me locate Anakin. But for now, I need a favor.” 

Bail nodded to each of them respectively, and the tired man nodded back to Ahsoka. “Of course. What is it?” 

Ahsoka nodded to the two five-year-olds that clung to her legs, sighing. “These are Padme Amidala’s children. I’m sure you can guess who the father is.” 

Bail looked at the two children in shock, eyes wide. “Are you  _ serious? _ ” 

Ahsoka nodded. “Unfortunately. I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to watch them.” 

“Absolutely,” Bail said, without breaking a step. “I’d willingly take care of them, and I know my wife would as well.” He crouched to their height, and then nodded. “I think I remember you two, actually. I taught you how to read, Leia!” 

She nodded an affirmative, and her chest puffed out to accommodate her pride. “I taught myself three languages! And I taught Luke a lot of stuff, too.” 

“Did you now?” Bail grinned. “Tell you what, Leia. You and your brother can come live with me and my wife for a while, until this all dies down, and then I can send you back to Ahsoka if you’d like.” 

Leia clung to Ahsoka’s leg, shaking her head. “No. She’s going to find my daddy. I stay with her.” 

“What about you, Luke?” Bail asked, accepting Leia’s decision. 

He paused, thinking about it. “I think,” he began, then shook his head. “I think I can do more good with you, Mister Organa.” 

Hesitantly, Luke let go of Ahsoka’s leg, going over to his sister with a gentle hug. She hugged him back, the shorter girl squeezing her brother tight. “I won’t forget you, Luke,” she murmured, and Luke grinned. 

“You know, I’m probably older than you,” Luke laughed, and Leia punched him in the shoulder, the two twins going right back to their arguing ways. 

Bail laughed, taking Luke’s hand as Brea walked out into the throne room. “Bail, darling, you didn’t tell me we had guests,” she tiredly replied, and Ahsoka gently pet Leia’s hair as she watched her brother greet Brea and the situation was explained. 

Brea nodded, then turned to Leia, eyes smiling. “Leia, since you don’t want to stay with us, would you like me to show you an Alderaanian hairstyle?” 

The girl perked up, and she dragged Ahsoka over to watch Brea weave the girl’s hair into an exquisite braided crown, Ahsoka nodding as she did so. “Alright. I can do that,” Ahsoka grinned, and Leia beamed, hugging Brea tightly. 

“You will always have a home here, Leia,” Brea nodded, and Leia beamed, her eyes wide with hope. 

Quinlan's eyes flicked from the smiling girls to the saber on Leia’s hip, the nearly foot-long hilt reaching from her hip to her knee. She carried it with such respect, too, as if the weapon was always destined to be hers.  _ She really is Skywalker’s daughter, _ Quinlan hummed to himself, his hand resting on Aayla’s shoulder. 

“Master?” Aayla muttered, and Quinlan’s eyes settled on her. “What will we say to the Council?” 

Quinlan paused, and then shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. This is a private matter, Aayla, and Leia and Luke Skywalker are _ none _ of the Council’s business.” 

Aayla paused, then nodded, Ahsoka finally walking up to the duo as the twins finished saying their goodbyes. “I can't tell you how grateful I am you're here,” Ahsoka hummed. “We’ll leave as soon as the twins are situated. I’m going back to Coruscant to get Ronin’s ship, because I don't need the Temple knowing where I'm going and such.” She scrubbed at her face, her leather jacket pulling taut across her shoulders. “Stars, this is a mess.” 

“How are you keeping so calm?” Aayla quietly asked. “If this were Quinlan’s situation, I would tear the world apart looking for him and no one would stop my wrath.” 

Ahsoka shook her head, smiling at the ground. “You see, Aayla, charging into situations like that isn't going to help me find Anakin. It won't be easy, and I'll possibly die in the process. But all of us are in a delicate situation; Kenobi is, easily, the most dangerous man in the galaxy. And you and I both know what he's capable of, Quinlan, so that makes this an even more delicate situation.” 

Leia walked up to Ahsoka, gently prodding at Ahsoka's thigh. “We can go now,” she nodded, her hand ghosting across the length of the saber on her hip. 

Goodbyes were said, then the quad prepared to leave. 

“Leia!” Luke shouted and his sister turned, confusion on her face. 

Words were exchanged in Huttese, and Leia nodded, returning the same phrase. She returned to Ahsoka’s side, and they left the palace, not even knowing where to start. 

~*~*~

_ Anakin’s blade crossed the red of the Sith’s, blue and red sparks flying about them as he stared into the eyes of Darth Maul.  _

_ Droid legs made up the lower half of the Sith’s body, the remnants of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s final act as a Padawan. He, like all the others, had heard the story. The man was a legend, and the legend he existed for was standing right in front of him.  _

_ “A child,” Maul snarled. “They sent an old man and a child to defeat me? Pitiful.”  _

_ Anakin didn’t reply, cutting at the Sith once more as he spun out of reach. Qui-Gon went after him, gray-blond hair a cape of pride and hope on the shoulders of the man, green blade howling in unison with the Jedi. Naboo hadn’t been enough, Anakin briefly thought; and he knew, deep down, that this was far more personal for his master than Jinn cared to share.  _

_ Anakin chased after them, Padawan braid bouncing on his shoulder as he darted through tunnels after his master. Geonosis was a planet he never wished to come back to, that was for certain.  _

_ “Anakin!” Padme howled into the comm, but he ignored it, his eyes focused on the gold of the Sith’s as he came in for one downward strike, then darting to the side as Qui-Gon slashed at him.  _

_ The tunnel turned into a cavern, the rock ceiling hundreds of feet above them. Geonosians darted away from the sound of the Sith and two Jedi clashing, Anakin slowly becoming unsure of whom it was that truly was the Jedi and whom was the Sith. The Dark Side acted like static in the air, boiling in their blood; it fueled their rage and pain, brought back memories that both Qui-Gon and Anakin never cared to think about again. But much like Sith, they used it to their advantage, walking a dangerous line that could topple them into destruction.  _

_ Anakin wasn’t quite sure how it happened. One moment he was ducking under the paired red blade of Maul’s, rolling away to spring back at the Sith’s unprotected back, the next Qui-Gon was howling in pain, on his knees.  _

_ “I should have killed you when I had the chance, old man,” Maul snarled, and brought his blade down in a terrifying arc of blood red across the man’s chest.  _

_ “No!” Anakin screamed, eyes wide in horror.  _

_ He knew the deed was done before Qui-Gon hit the stone floor, the limestone soaking up the Jedi’s blood from what little bled from the gash on his chest. His connection with the man went dead, and it felt like a vital part of him had died with him. Anakin fell to his knees, as if his chest couldn’t move, as if his heart had stopped beating. He gasped for air, tears streaming down his face. Maul snickered at him, shaking his head. “Oh, how pitiful. The Chosen One, felled alongside his loyal master. Mine will be very pleased,” Maul grinned, stalking around the Padawan in a tight circle. “Well, I was asked to bring you in, alive, but you’re being particularly difficult. He won’t be too upset, I don’t think. It really doesn’t bother me, either.”  _

_ Maul raised his blade, and Anakin looked away, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.  _

_ “No!” A new voice shouted, and Maul’s eyes shot open, the man spinning in shock towards the sound. Anakin took his chance, diving his blade into the Sith’s chest. Maul groaned, and when Anakin pulled his blade from the man’s chest, he fell to the ground, unmoving.  _

_ Anakin immediately rushed to his master’s side, cradling the fallen Jedi’s head in his lap. No words were spoken, but Anakin closed the gray eyes of his master, trying to keep the tears from falling again.  _ There is no death,  _ he heard his master say.  _ There is only the Force.

_ But Anakin howled in his despair anyway, the man who had rescued him from slavery now gone from this realm, on to the next.  _

_ “Are you alright?” that new voice asked, and when Anakin looked up, he saw a blue-haired girl standing over him, but her gaze was focused elsewhere, her black clothes a stark contrast from the sandy color of the caverns. “Physically, I mean.”  _

_ “Yes,” Anakin finally managed, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  _

_ “He was your master, wasn’t he?” she asked gently, and he choked back a sob, nodding as he cried.  _

_ She sank to her knees, hand gently searching for the shoulder of the Padawan before pulling him into her chest, gently patting his head. “It’s going to be alright, I promise. What was his name?”  _

_ “Qui-Gon Jinn,” he breathed, and the girl stiffened, her shock evident.  _

_ “Jinn, what were you  _ thinking, _ ” she muttered, her shoulders slumping.  _

_ “You knew him?” Anakin asked, confused. He scrubbed tears from his cheeks and sat up, muttering into his comm.  _

_ “Yes, a long time ago. My name is Ronin, by the way.”  _

_ “Anakin Skywalker,” he muttered back.  _

_ Padme rushed into the cavern, the brunette’s step faltering as she saw what had occurred. “Oh, Ani,” she hummed, then looked to the girl he sat next to. “Ronin? What are you doing here?”  _

_ “You know me,” she winked. “I have a habit of showing up wherever there’s the biggest drama. I’ll see you on Coruscant.” Ronin stood, her stick in her hand waving the ground in front of her.  _

_ “Wait,” Anakin hummed, and she turned, her head tilting to the side. “Take this,” he called, and called Maul’s blade into his hand. “Consider it a parting gift. And will I ever see you again?” He asked her, and she hefted the black hilt in her hand, shaking her head.  _

_ “I spent years chasing after Maul, hoping for the chance to end his reign of terror,” she grinned, her hand tight around the saber. “Now, I have helped you end him. For good,” she amended, and smiled. “I don’t know, Padme. Are you okay with me hanging out with your Jedi boyfriend?”  _

_ “He’s not my boyfriend!” She spluttered, but Ronin only grinned, silvery gold eyes lighting up the room.  _

_ “Yeah, yeah, your secret is safe with me,” she winked, then nodded to Anakin. “I suppose I will, Skywalker. Until next time,” she boded, and stalked off into the shadows, the metal tip of her staff lightly scraping the limestone.  _

Anakin stared at the wall of the cell, his knees tight to his chest, eyes unfocused and empty. He’d been here for months, it felt like, though it had only been a few days; he took some solace in the fact that Ahsoka was probably tearing the galaxy apart looking for him, but even then, he didn’t know where he was. 

Food was pushed under the door on a tray. He didn’t even look at it. 

“Master Skywalker,” a small voice said, and he finally turned his head to see a small boy staring at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and I believe that this situation is only temporary. But I promise you, you can’t get out of here if you don’t eat.” He stared at the boy, a Twi’lek, and silver eyes stared back at him, eyes begging. “Please, Master Skywalker.” 

Skywalker nodded, reaching for a piece of fruit. He was acutely aware of the boy watching him until he swallowed, and, satisfied, the boy stood and left, knowing that he wasn’t likely going to get much else from the Jedi. 

Later, Ventress stared at him, resting her arms on the crossbars of the durasteel cell door. “I didn’t know Kenobi was planning any of that, Skywalker. I swear.” He only turned his back on her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the cell. He knew she was telling the truth, but she didn’t  _ deserve _ his acknowledgement of that. For all he knew, she tried to kill Ahsoka. “Skywalker,” Ventress whimpered, and he didn’t move, though he knew the look on her face would be priceless. “Please understand, I’ll try to protect you from as much of Kenobi’s wrath as I can. This isn’t the way to fix any of this.” When he didn’t reply, she stood, her heart heavy. “I’ll try to fix this myself, then,” she murmured, and he shook his head. 

“Are you sure you want to be a Sith, Ventress?” he asked her, and he felt her pause, consider his words, and then leave. 

Anakin had lost any sense of time in that cell. It was dark, and damp, and the air was stale-- he never slept, but he meditated, gathering some energy from the Force. It was difficult, then, for him to judge how much time had actually passed, so he began counting the days in meals. He got two a day, one in the morning and one in the evening, and he always ate a bite or two of it and then drank the tea, only to keep his strength up. He’d had at least ten of them now, telling him a galactic standard week had passed since he woke up in the cell. 

And in that week, he hadn’t seen Kenobi. He had only seen Ventress that one time, and it was always the same boy who brought him his food. He would always stay until Anakin had stopped picking at his food, telling him stories of his life before he was a servant and of his family, who also worked at the place he stayed at; Anakin was beginning to gather he was on Ryloth, completely on the other side of the Corellian Run from Coruscant and practically the next system over from Tatooine. 

“Do you like it here?” Anakin suddenly asked the boy. 

He paused, then nodded. “Yes, I do. Master Revis pays my family well, and we can support our village in times of hardship with the pay. But lately, he’s been acting strangely. Strange people have come to visit him, people by the names of Savage Opress and Boba Fett and others I can’t remember. They all seem like bounty hunters, though, and Master Revis normally does all his bounties himself.” 

Anakin huffed, sighing. “Stay away from them for as much as you can. Those are dangerous people, like your master.” 

He internally cringed at saying that, his past flickering by in his vision. The boy only nodded, though, and Anakin had to stop himself from nearly puking. This boy and his family were paid, so they weren’t slaves. They were employed servants. It was common on the Core Worlds, especially by the upper-class. He could get by with this. He could let it go. 

“Z’ev,” an all-too-familiar voice called from the steps. “Are you fraternizing with the prisoner?” 

The boy only sighed, crossing his arms. “Studies have shown that if you don’t engage in personal contact with people, they go insane. I’m fairly certain that you don’t want that to happen, Master Revis. I was saving you the trouble of coming down here.” 

“It wasn’t necessary,” Revis gently stated. “But thank you. Go home, Z’ev. It’s late, I’m sure your mother is wondering where you are.” 

“Yessir,” the boy sadly replied, and then stalked off, Anakin promptly turning his back to the Sith. 

“Come now, Anakin,” Kenobi huffed. “Don’t be like that. It’s just not your style.” 

Anakin didn’t reply, the Jedi keeping a tight lip. 

He felt the man grow frustrated, something like a blazing gold strand connecting the two of them. He tried to shut it out, to ignore it completely, but he couldn’t; it was like a training bond, but something.... More. “Anakin, seriously.” 

Anakin bunched his fists at his sides, but did not even acknowledge the man’s presence. 

“Look at me, damn you!” Kenobi snapped, punching the cell door. Anakin scrambled on top of the cot in the corner, crouched and ready to strike if he came in the cell. Kenobi only grabbed the bars, resting his head against them. “I had orders, Anakin.” 

“Don’t talk to me about  _ orders, _ ” Anakin snapped. “You know nothing of the sort. You only lie, cheat, steal, kill, or whatever else it is you do to get what you want. You threatened my  _ family. _ You killed my  _ friend. _ ” 

He hoped for a hurt gaze. He hoped to see pain in the eyes of the man he was so certain he loved but he only saw anger and suffering; and somehow, that broke Anakin further, his shattered being already falling further into pain and despair. 

“Your children deserve a father, damn you, Anakin!” he snapped back, golden eyes blazing. Anakin had to hide his shock at the sudden raise in voice from the Sith, but it washed over him like an ocean wave. “By making a scene there I scattered the twins and therefore Sidious can’t get where they are out of me. Do you understand? Because the second I found out about them, so did Sidious.” 

Anakin stared at him, understanding suddenly blossoming. He still didn’t agree, and he was still angry as hell, but he understood. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Kenobi, but get the fuck out of my life,” Anakin snarled. “They’re  _ my  _ family. I have to protect them.” 

_ But what about Padme? What about Ronin? _ That little ghost in his ear whispered.  _ You know.... They say the Dark Side is the path to abilities one might deem.... Unnatural. _

_ How about you fuck right on off, Brenda, _ Anakin snapped back, and the voice faded into oblivion-- for now. 

Kenobi sighed. “I can’t let you go, Anakin. Not yet. Not until Dooku comes, and maybe Sidious. I can’t tell you how long that will be, but it won’t be soon.” 

Anakin leveled his gaze, and then he quietly asked, “Do you love me?” 

Kenobi stood, shocked, and stared at the Jedi, who looked like a beaten child that had been left to die. Anakin could see the cogs turning in the Sith’s eyes, trying to find a way out of this situation; but finally, he sighed, the ginger resting his head against the cell. “Yes.” 

“Then you’d let me go,” Anakin murmured, and Kenobi’s shoulders slumped. 

“Anakin, I can’t let you go. If I do, Sidious will kill me, and then he’ll kill you, Ahsoka, and your entire family. No one is safe from him but if you just listen to me, I can help you,” he begged, and then Anakin scoffed. 

“Where was this side of you when you beheaded my friend?” Anakin asked, and then shook his head. “She was  _ your lover _ too.” 

Kenobi flinched away from his gaze, and Anakin scoffed once more, turning his back to the Sith. He hovered a bit longer, then left the Jedi in peace. 

Anakin’s mind only wandered back to Tatooine, as it had before so many times in that week. His soul seemed to be pierced like Ronin’s chest, his will dismembered like her body; every ounce of hope and faith he had in Kenobi had ended right there, and it would be almost impossible for the man to build it back up. The memory bled into his senses, slowly stripping him of any awareness of his surroundings, his fragile grip on reality hazing over once again. 

_ “Don’t do it, Anakin,” Ronin shouted, and Kenobi snarled, cuffing her across the back of her head with his hand. Anakin felt his blood boil at the sight of it, but kept it carefully squared away. That was not ammunition Kenobi needed.  _

_ “Shut your mouth,” he growled, leveling his gaze with Anakin. “Come now, Anakin. Surely we can come to a conclusion here.”  _

_ Anakin’s eyes flicked to Ahsoka, whose green sabers had since ignited and were readied to strike against Kenobi. Ronin began rambling, and to Anakin’s knowledge, it was in Huttese. “Listen,” she’d said. “Attack him when I say it's a trap. I have a plan. Trust me.”   _

_ Kenobi grit his teeth and called upon the Force, swirling darkly around him and Ronin. He saw the panic on Ahsoka’s face and the pain on Ronin’s; she struggled to breathe, and before she could pass out, Anakin shouted, “No, wait!”  _

_ Ronin’s face relaxed with relief as she gasped in air, falling face-first into the sand as she gathered her breath. “You idiot,” she choked out, and then was hauled to her feet, then shoved towards Ahsoka.  _

_ The Togruta caught the stumbling woman, dropping her sabers in the process; the woman struggled free of her cuffs, Ahsoka eventually cutting them off of her as Anakin warily walked towards Kenobi, eyes forward, shoulders squared. Come on, Ronin, he thought, eyes focused on Kenobi. He wanted to fight him, to bring him to his knees--  _

_ “No, Anakin, it’s a trap!” Ronin shouted, calling one of Ahsoka’s sabers into her hand as she spun across the sand, her bare feet prancing with seemingly no effect on the desert dunes as Ronin’s borrowed blade crossed Kenobi’s.  _

_ Anakin immediately drew his, launching into battle alongside his friend without a single hesitation and a grin upon his face. Ahsoka grabbed Shmi, stopping the woman from running to her son, and then pointed to Beru, though Anakin didn't hear what she said. She called her saber into her hand and ran off towards the ship, shouting at the torn woman. Shmi shook herself free of the shock that followed, taking Beru under the arms and almost dragging her behind the house before she went back in.  _

_ Anakin had never felt so alive, fighting alongside Ronin. Their blows were perfectly in sync, each one critical and brutal. For a brief moment, Anakin wondered if Qui-Gon would be proud of the warrior he’d become.  _

_ Like every battle the Jedi was in, he rarely remembered the details. Adrenaline burned through his body, erasing his memory and making him an instinctive killing machine. But Kenobi’s kick sent him scrambling back, and he felt a part of him die as he watched Ronin fall.  _

_ He could only see Qui-Gon and Maul in Ronin’s and Kenobi’s position, and the fear was paralysing. He went from a strong warrior to a scared Padawan, his lightsaber in the sand six feet from him as he stared up at his friend’s unseeing gaze, though this time, it was forever.  _

_ He could hear Ahsoka screaming, he could feel Ventress’s shock and surprise; he could feel Kenobi’s despair and he could almost hear his children and family sobbing in the house, though he knew they weren't watching. Another person he'd trusted, gone by a Sith.  _

_ Rage boiled in Anakin’s blood, but he lacked the will to do anything about it, so much like the day Qui-Gon had died.  _

Anakin scrubbed a tear from his cheek, then laid down, hoping that he could finally sleep. But that ghost was back, whispering thoughts into his ear. His every breath became labored with tedious thought, carefully crafting his plan in the shadows of the dark cell. A sly smile crept onto his lips. If it worked, he would be the most famous person in galactic history.

**_I have a plan,_ he heard Ronin say, like a friendly hand on his shoulder. _Trust me._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, yeah, that happened.   
> timeline switcheroo, anyone?   
> go yell at me on tumblr, I'm sabeanwren. I'll be posting some sketches of Luke and Leia there tomorrow-ish! (and Ronin... and Avalon... and everyone, really? i'm trash. I've got nothing better to do with my life.)  
> Thank you for all of your continued support, guys. It means a lot! I know I'm not the best writer, but I want to be good, and it takes a lot of practice for me to get there. Your feedback is always appreciated, and for all the years of work I've put into my writing, I'm glad to see some results for it.   
> (Ten years down the line, when I go back and read this, I'll probably cry it'll be so bad, but that's okay. It's the best I can do now, and that's what matters. Keep writing, to all you writers out there. Keep drawing, you artists. You'll make it, one day. I promise.)


	11. { e l e v e n }

_ { i cast my eyes on the pleiades, the seven sisters who would come for me ; they’d fall to earth to grant a child’s dream, but i am still waiting } _

_ Three months later:  _

_ Time. Time was needed, Anakin observed. _

Two months ago, he had been let out of his cell for a total of four hours a day. Kenobi insisted that keeping him locked up was no sign of good will, and Anakin, already going insane from staring at the same four walls, jumped at the chance. 

Two weeks after that, he was then allowed to eat his meals outside of the cell as well, so he dined with Kenobi and Ventress at a small breakfast bar in the spacious kitchen. A month later, and he was given full rights to the palace he was staying in to wander at any given time, a spacious bedroom with a balcony, and could wander the grounds if Kenobi or Ventress accompanied him. A week after that, Z’ev, the Twi’lek boy that had been reassigned to help Skywalker get adjusted to the area, was allowed to take him out on the grounds as well. 

Many times when he was out with Z’ev, Anakin saw chances to escape. There was that time where he was meditating outside, and the boy had fallen asleep waiting for him; another time, Z’ev had gotten ahead of him, rambling on about his family, and Anakin could have slipped right by and he wouldn’t have noticed. But that would have meant subjecting an innocent to the torment of Kenobi that he didn’t deserve. So, the Jedi stayed, a prisoner in a palace built of marble with funds that were probably from bank accounts full of blood money. 

The palace, though, was exquisite. It was everything Kenobi was: elegant, sharp, beautiful, and ominous, and yet alluring. The main building stood well over a hundred feet tall and six hundred feet wide. The rooms inside were massive, the halls as elegant as the man who they were built for. A throne room sat in the center of the building, and when Kenobi held court with the other Seperatists, that was where he sat. Anakin had seen him, once, and though he stalked out of the room as quickly as he came in, he could only think that Kenobi was built to rule. 

Kenobi seemed fit, in his mind, for a throne. The elegance of it, the power he constantly radiated, was alluring, familiar, and intoxicating. The marble pillars that sat on either side of him on the dais seemed just as powerful as the man in between them.  _ Power. _ That was Kenobi’s main goal, wasn't it? To control all of the galaxy, under one banner, presumably with an iron fist. And, Anakin couldn’t lie to himself: the idea sounded somewhat....  _ Pleasing. _

_ No, no, no, _ Anakin snapped at himself.  _ That’s what he wants you to think. _

Even so, that night, Skywalker stalked the throne room, climbing up the dais of marble. The throne itself was silver, hammered silver leaves and vines accenting the elegant mold of the metal. It was stunning up close, Anakin mused, and the black velvet that coated the seat seemed to be just as graceful as the man who sat in it. 

“Admiring the merchandise?” Kenobi teased lightly, and Skywalker paled, snatching his hand away from the cool metal. 

“What? No, absolutely not. It’s a ridiculous display of wealth,” Anakin snapped, but his eye lingered on it, and Kenobi smirked, though not condescendingly. 

“I don’t generally reside here,” he hummed, walking up to the other side of the throne. “I have a home on Coruscant, and obviously you’ve seen my shelter on Mustafar. I have many others in many other places, but those are the two main ones.” Kenobi gestured to the throne, a leather-gloved hand carefully relaxed. “Go on, sit. I don’t mind.” 

Skywalker moved, as if in a trance, to obey the orders that Kenobi gave him. His curiosity, Anakin would tell you, was his worst quality. He sank into the velvet cushions, his arms resting on woven silver. It was comfortable, yes, but it didn’t.... Quite fit him, he admitted. Kenobi smiled at him, shaking his head. “I had this made shortly after the Battle of Geonosis. It was a testament to Qui-Gon Jinn.... He would have loved it, I think, but it would have been too flashy for him.” Kenobi’s hand ran down the hammered leaves, then he shook his head. “ _ Stars _ , how I miss that crazy old man.” 

Anakin smiled at the ground, memories of the graying blonde flickering across his vision. “You know, from what I remember of him,” he began, sighing, “he never stopped blaming himself for what happened to you. He tried so  _ hard _ to not let me know how he grieved for you, but I knew. We all did. I heard the other Masters when I was a boy talking about the hole that was left in the Order after you left, of how the halls seemed quieter, the people smaller.” 

Kenobi looked away, pain in his eyes. “I wanted to watch the Sith fall, Anakin, but when I faced Dooku, I had only learned that I was one of them. I don’t know when it happened. I think it was a gradual thing, that my obsession with  _ destroying _ them made me like them.” Kenobi shrugged. “I had good intentions, but I lost myself along the way. Part of that man still exists, I think; but now, I don’t know. I don’t think he’s in me anymore.” 

“The difference between Darth Revis and Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Skywalker sighed. “I heard tales of an honest man, of a good man, that helped those who needed it and spent his time serving the others.” Blue eyes rested on gold, and Anakin stood. “I don’t see any of those qualities in you.” 

He stalked down the marble steps, leaving a shocked Kenobi standing beside the throne. 

“Anakin,” he called, and the Jedi stopped, turning his head to acknowledge the man. 

“Know that I did what I felt was necessary,” Kenobi said, pain in his tone. “I care more for you than you know, and I know what it’s like to lose someone you love to Sidious. What I went through as a young man.... I don’t want the twins going through that.” Kenobi paused, and then quietly asked, “What are their names?” 

It took the Jedi a moment to respond, his gaze lingering on the marble floor in front of him. “Luke and Leia,” Anakin breathed. “Luke is so much like Padme. He’s smart, quiet, fiery; but his sister, Leia.... She carries the pride of the Skywalker line on her shoulders. She knows hardship, she knows faith. And she will cut you down where you stand if you so much as look at her the wrong way.” 

“She sounds like her father,” Kenobi teased, but there was kindness in his tone. 

Anakin smiled. “Yeah, yeah she does.” 

The Jedi stalked out of the room, the eyes of the Sith following him with a gentle curiosity. But Kenobi’s comm rang as the Jedi finally left, and the Sith picked it up, answering it with the same dignified voice he always pretended to have. “Kenobi.” 

_ “Darth Revis,”  _ the familiar voice of Sidious cooed. Kenobi nodded in acceptance, welcoming his master. 

“Hello, Master Sidious. How can I be of assistance?” 

_ “The Skywalker boy.... Do you still hold him in custody?” _

“Yes,” Kenobi stated, confused. “Why?” 

Sidious hummed, the silence worrying the younger ginger. Silence from his master was never a good thing.  _ “Let him go.”  _

“Yes sir,” Kenobi nodded. “Where do you want me to send him?” 

_ “Jedha,” _ came the wary reply.  _ “He’ll manage.” _

Kenobi nodded his affirmative, then terminated the comm. He chased out after Anakin, his black and gold cape sweeping the marble floors behind him. “Anakin!” 

The Jedi, who had been having a conversation with Ventress, paused, turning to look at him. “Yes, Kenobi?” 

“Would you like to have a cup of tea? Before you leave, I mean?” 

Anakin perked up, a small spark of life returning to his gaze. They first met eight months ago, Kenobi recalled; and it had been one  _ hell _ of a rollercoaster ride for them both. “I can leave?” 

“I have orders to take you somewhere, where you can find a ship to wherever you need to go,” Kenobi sighed. “But I’m sure you will not be harmed, wherever you go.” 

Anakin turned to Ventress, who shrugged. “I had nothing to do with your release, Skywalker. Don’t look at me like I’m your hero.” 

Anakin nodded, then sighed. “What the hell, why not. I’ll have caf if you don’t mind; I’m not big on tea.” 

Kenobi nodded, extending a hand for Anakin to follow. “That’s not a problem.” 

~*~*~

_ “Quinlan, I need you here.”  _

The Kiffar turned his tired eyes to his sleeping Padawan beside him and the Togruta that had wrapped herself around Leia to keep her warm on the cold ship in hyperspace, the quad tired, worn out, from the search for Anakin.“Um, Ava,” the Kiffar sighed, “I’m on a mission, tracking down Skywalker. You  _ know _ this.” 

_ “Yeah, that’s part of the reason I need you here,” _ Avalon stated dryly, then turned the comm to face the face of the tired Jedi.  _ “I’m flattered, really,” _ the said Jedi muttered, and Leia immediately sat up at the sound of his voice. She darted to the Kiffar’s side, pressing her face against his to get in the comm. 

“Daddy?” she asked quietly, eyes hopeful. Ahsoka stirred at the loss of the young girl that she had been sleeping next to, and Aayla woke up at the sound of the squeak of joy that Leia released when she saw the face of her father. “Daddy!” 

“Anakin?!” Ahsoka squeaked, and Aayla sat upright, the entire group squeezing into the picture. “How--”

_ “He let me go,” _ he murmured.  _ “All the reasoning he gave for killing Ronin.... I hate to say this, but it makes sense.”  _

“He’s a Sith, Skywalker,” Quinlan shrugged. “He exists to make stories seem believable.”

The group all squished into the frame so Anakin could see them, shock on their faces. Anakin's eyes softened at the image of Leia finally squirming into the frame.  _ “My Leia,”  _ he hummed.  _ “Where is Luke?” _

“Safe,” Ahsoka nodded. “We’ll meet you on Jedha and take you back to Coruscant.” 

_ “Sounds good.”  _ Anakin paused, and then said,  _ “Sidious knows about the Twins. When Kenobi found out, he was obligated to inform him. Apparently there's a bunch of journals that Ronin left that he went through, and he found them. Ahsoka, I need you to keep Luke and Leia hidden from me until this threat has passed. Leia, darling, I will see you soon but I can't say how long it'll be after that.”  _

“Wasn't Kenobi rambling on about something having to be done in a year about like, six months ago?” Ahsoka muttered, her fingers twisting a kyber around her throat. 

_ “Seven,”  _ Anakin corrected.  _ “I counted. Five months until this huge thing is supposed to happen. I don't know what it is, but I do know one thing: we have to find and kill the Sith Lord.”  _

“Didn't Ronin tell you that it was Palpatine?” Ahsoka asked. 

Anakin shrugged.  _ “You know how I am about the Chancellor. I'll talk to him again, Snips. I might be wrong.... Stars, I wish Padme was here. She’d know what to do.”  _

Ahsoka nodded. “Yeah. She would.” 

The silence fell on the group, a wistful silence. “Papa, I miss you and Nana,” Leia hummed, her hair falling loose about her face. 

Anakin’s face softened.  _ “I miss you too, Leia. I promise I'll come back for you once this is all over.” _

She nodded briskly, and then hefted his lightsaber. “I kept it. Soka made me a stick so I can learn how to use one too,” she grinned, and they all smiled at her, at her fierce determination. Anakin grinned too; she was safe with them. She would always be safe with them. 

_ “I'll see you when you land on Jedha. There's a lot we have to catch you up on,”  _ Anakin nodded, and then Avalon came back into the frame. 

_ “Quinlan, I'm going to request that you stay here with us. I'll return you to Coruscant when you're done here.”  _

Quinlan shrugged. “Does Aayla stay too?” 

“I am close to my trials, Master. I believe I'll learn more from staying with Ahsoka, Anakin, and Leia than I would from you at this point,” the Twi’lek quietly murmured, and Quinlan nodded. 

“As you wish,” he hummed. He turned his attention back to Avalon, who was grinning with a glint in her eye. “I will remain, then.” 

It could have been a change in lighting, or simply a glitch in the tiny blue hologram of the teen, but he swore he saw her silver eyes flicker to a dangerous gold, a gold that bled power and hunger and desire.  _ Kingkiller, _ they screamed,  _ Starkiller; Galaxy-Destroyer, Child of Death.... _ But it was gone as soon as it came, and Avalon nodded, bidding her friends goodbye and ending the comm. 

“Does she seem.... Different?” Quinlan quietly asked, and the group shrugged. 

“You're the one who lived with her, Quin,” Ahsoka hummed, and scooped a yawning Leia up in her arms. “I'll have Artoo reset the course. Try to get some sleep, guys. I don't know what we’ll face when we get to the Holy City.” 

~*~*~

Jedha was every bit of the bustling scoundrel city Ahsoka expected. 

She'd managed to get Aayla to stay behind with Leia so they didn't have to worry about the girl running off, but being down Secura’s uncanny and tenacious repertoire in battle made the former Jedi antsy. Quinlan hugged her six, his hand on her shoulder as they wandered about the city, Ahsoka's hand right on the sabers on her hip. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use them.

“You there,” a familiar voice called out, and Ahsoka stopped, somehow knowing he was talking to her. “Yes you!” Her eyes cast upon a blind man, his stick heavy in his hands as it rested against his leg. “You are looking for someone?” 

“Yes,” Ahsoka nodded, approaching him. 

“Snips, he's just a beggar,” Quinlan warned, but she ignored him. 

“You'll find the Temple on the highest hill of the city. Baze and I will show you, Knight Tano.”

It was then Ahsoka recognized him, her shoulders relaxing. “Chirrut Imwe.” 

“One and only,” he winked, dragging his friend out of the shadows as they stalked down the bustling streets. “I was under the impression there would be more of you.” 

“We split up. Didn't want to endanger the child,” Ahsoka hummed, and the Protector nodded. 

“Yes, Skywalker spoke of her highly. He seems to care for her deeply.” Chirrut’s step hesitated, then he said, “He seems to care for everyone near him deeply. The Force flows through him in a way that I cannot explain.” 

“He is at war with himself, Protector Imwe,” Ahsoka hummed. “Take care that you don't get caught up in the storm.” 

Quinlan snorted. “Please. We've all been dragged into this petty game.” 

“Enough,” Ahsoka warned, a sharp gaze falling upon her companion. 

Silence lingered as they stalked through the streets, the people parting for the blind man who led them and the assassin who tailed. Quinlan pressed his lips together, his stress eating him alive. Ahsoka kept checking on Aayla and Leia, the two playing happily with the training sticks outside the ship. 

Wrought iron gates stood before them, rusted, elegant, and worn; with a small shove of the Force, Chirrut opened it, and they stalked into the courtyard of the Holy Temple. 

Ahsoka got the feeling it was the crumbling remains of what it once was, weathered limestone washing it a sandy brown. A figure in black stood waiting on the steps, and Ahsoka quickly identified him as Anakin, to whom she rushed with a tackling bear hug. 

The Jedi huffed at the pressure, the Togruta pressing her face into his neck. “Hey, Snips,” he hummed, hugging her back. 

She pulled away to check him over for wounds, for any sign of abuse, but she found none; and in her relief, she gripped him tight again, her tears wetting his tunic. “Please don't ever leave me again.” 

“I don't plan on it, Snips,” he hummed, rubbing her back. 

Quinlan walked up the stairs next, gripping Anakin's shoulder in a vice. “You scared us for a bit, kid,” Vos sighed, then pulled him into a hug too. “Maybe we should all drink to our family!” 

“How about we don't,” Ahsoka sighed, glaring at the Kiffar. 

He rolled his eyes, huffing. “Fine, killjoy.” 

Avalon crept out of the shadows, wheeling herself along in a wheelchair. It seemed older than the Temple itself, but it was probably just built by Avalon herself. “What happened?” 

Avalon turned her gaze to Ahsoka, who had asked the question, and shrugged. “I have good days and bad days. Some of those bad days are spent in a chair like this, like a fucking paraplegic, and some others I can't even get myself out of bed. I hate it, more than I have ever hated anything.” 

“Avalon has a ligament disease,” Quinlan quietly hummed. “She tears tendons and such all the time.” 

Ahsoka cringed, shaking her head. “I'm sorry.” 

Avalon turned her back to the former Jedi. “Your pity is not what I want. Take Anakin and go, Ahsoka Tano. Quinlan will follow in a few days, you have my word.” 

She wheeled off into the dark of the Temple, Chirrut and Baze looking after her sadly. If anyone could start sensing the change that was occurring, the decay that clung to the once tight-knit group, it was the two Protectors that seemed never far from trouble. Baze’s face was tired, weathered, the young man seeming to be aged far beyond his years. Chirrut’s usually chirpy expression had since faded, concern clouding his gaze. He said something to Baze in Mando’a, but Ahsoka couldn’t catch it before the words were gone like an idea not fully grasped. Quinlan hesitated before he stalked into the shadows, his brown gaze seeming to linger on his Jedi friends before he followed Avalon, his footsteps echoing against the limestone.  

“Let's go home, Snips,” Anakin quietly said once Quinlan had vanished from their sight, draping his arm across her shoulders as they walked back through the gates and down into the streets. Anakin bought some food and a couple of trinkets to appease Leia with when he saw her. When Ahsoka asked where the money was from, he only shook his head and said, “Doesn't matter.” 

She got the heavy feeling that it was from Kenobi. 

They walked back out to the ship, carrying their goods in hand, and Anakin was tackled by a squealing Leia, the girl wrapping her arms around her father so tight he feared she might cut off circulation to his legs. 

The scene seemed to pass by in slow motion, Ahsoka only half-smiling at her companions. If Aayla noticed, Ahsoka didn’t know; for a brief moment, she didn’t care either. 

“Did you get taller?” Anakin asked, and she nodded pridefully. 

“And Princess Organa shown me how to do the braid!” She squealed, pointing to the crown braid she still asked for every morning. 

“What were you doing on Alderaan?” Anakin questioned. 

Before anyone else could answer, Ahsoka sniffed, “We picked up Aayla and Quinlan there. Figured we’d stop and say hello to our old friends otherwise.” 

Anakin nodded, patting his daughter's head. “Reasonable.” 

Artoo came screeching down the ramp, shouting all sorts of profanities at Skywalker.  _ [You son of a bitch!]  _ Artoo shouted, whacking Anakin with an attached arm.  _ [You go off on an adventure and YOU DIDN’T TAKE ME?? What kind of bullshit is this??!] _

“Artoo,” Anakin warned, and another fiery series of beeps followed. Anakin sucked in a breath. “You’re not allowed to call me that!” Another set of beeps, this series more angry than the last. “ _ Or that!” _

_ [Whatever, you fucking scruffy, ridiculous, irresponsible nerfherder. I will make sure you don’t power off for the next six months.] _ The angry droid then wheeled around, a shocked Anakin staring after him. 

“What did he say?” Leia asked quietly, and the three others immediately responded, “Nothing.” 

She narrowed her brown eyes in disbelief, but brushed it off, prancing after the droid. 

They all loaded into the ship, Leia proudly showing her father what she had learned from her companions with Aayla as a sparring partner, and carefully returning his lightsaber, eventually falling asleep in his lap. Anakin, too, fell asleep, the faint chatter of Aayla and Ahsoka and the angry, belligerent beeping of Artoo somehow just as calming as the silence, if not more.  

 

_ “Anakin.  _

_ “Anakin, darling, you need to wake up.  _

_ “Anakin!” _

_ The hand shook him gently, then more roughly as he slowly came to, staring up at the face of his mother. She grinned, the young boy sitting up with the help of his mother.  _

_ “You've been sick,” she explained to him. “This boy brought you out of the desert.” Shmi turned her eyes towards a pale, tall, gangly redhead that fidgeted with two droid parts on the table, murmuring to himself what they were and how to fix them.  _

_ Upon seeing their gaze, he stood, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “Are you okay?”  _

_ Anakin hesitated, then nodded. “What happened?”  _

_ He pulled on his braid, the odd thing trailing down from his right ear, and then said, “A pod you were racing against crashed into you. You were ejected from the pod itself and landed some feet away.”  _

_ Anakin hummed, carefully prodding at his skull, wincing in pain. “Oh.”  _

_ Shmi patted the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, stranger.”  _

_ The ginger only sighed, calling upon something greater than himself and waving his hand. “You will not remember my presence.”  _

_ “We will not remember your presence,” Anakin and his mother repeated quietly, and then turned to ignore him. But those blue eyes lingered, and there was something familiar about him, as if he were something that had actually been there all his life.  _

_ The scene stopped as if it were a holohilm, that ebony girl from the Temple staring down at him.  _ You see, Anakin Skywalker, _ she murmured, waving her hand at the scene.  _ He has always been looking out for you. 

_ The scene changed to the Jedi Temple, at the memorial for Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. Again, the scene paused, the young Padawan standing next to a mourning Qui-Gon Jinn, and a redhead far in the distance watching them. Anakin had remembered the ceremony clearly; it was the first time he’d ever seen Master Jinn cry, and it was also the last.  _

_ Then, it was his knighting, the visions prancing about him in the shadows. It was another test, he knew, but there were the blue eyes,  the same sapphire blue as they had been all those years ago.  _

All of those are Kenobi, _ he breathed, and the woman nodded. _

Yes, _ she hummed.  _ He has always watched over you, like a dark guardian angel. He caused you much pain, but he had no choice. He cares deeply for you, Skywalker. 

Who are you?  _ He asked her, but she only shrugged.  _

Doesn't matter, _ she replied.  _ I am whoever you want me to be. 

_ Anakin paused, mind racing, eyes heavy and tired.  _ Tell me the truth, _ he finally hummed.  _

_ She smiled, and then gripped his hand, leading him away from the scene.  _

*~*~*

Kenobi stared at the wall, his hands still wrapped around his terracotta tea cup, the clay once burning his hands now icy cold. He hadn't moved in hours it seemed like, and Ventress would be inclined to agree, he figured. 

The seat Anakin had sat in only hours before was now cold, empty, the Jedi enthusiastically talking about his children to a nodding Kenobi, whose gentle smile lulled the Jedi into a sense of peace. 

But the memories of Anakin that seemed to be made up, that he wasn't entirely sure happened; rescuing him, pretending like he didn't know him, pretending like  _ nothing had happened _ and the Padawan, so close to walking on the Dark side, had stared at this tired, blonde boy that had been tossed from the scene of a fit of rage. 

The Jedi had dug through the boy's brain, taking him back to his mother; if she asked why he was podracing, he’d say he didn't know. 

He felt Qui-Gon calling him, his master concerned for his Padawan; Kenobi, though, did not reply, not right away. He waited for the boy to wake up, to see what he remembered, his mother quietly hovering over him. 

_ Anakin, _ she’d called him. 

Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was not likely to forget that name any time soon, he was sure. 

Then, the boy was eight, accidentally winning the Battle of Naboo for them. Kenobi only watched as Maul fell, but somewhere deep inside the Jedi, he felt himself falling too. 

He wondered if Jinn could sense it, the darkness in his veins. It called him, crooning him to a greatness he didn't know how to achieve otherwise.  _ People will remember your name, Sithkiller, _ it promised, crooning pride and arrogance into his soul. 

Padme Amidala’s hand had lingered too long on the Jedi’s shoulder as he carried his Master to the ship, the queen falling into step beside him.  _ What happened? _ She’d asked; Kenobi held his tongue. He feared if he spoke, his emotions would bubble to the surface, shattering the resolve of a perfect Jedi Padawan. 

But the darkness burned into his skin, into his very soul, and he still wondered how it hadn't left scars upon his skin and burned his blood to ash; he wondered how he had remained so dedicated to the Dark when he had gotten so little in return. 

_ But you're famous, _ it crooned.  _ We gave you everything you asked for. You wished upon our black star, darling, and this is your reward.  _

Indeed, he was famous.  _ Sithkiller, Negotiator, Revis; _ he had more than one name. 

Who was he fooling; Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead. There was no Jedi left in him. 

He knew Anakin didn’t remember the nights they’d spent together shortly after the Battle of Naboo, the future Padawan clinging to Obi-Wan’s side as a true blossom of friendship formed.  _ The Padawan chooses the Master, _ Luminara had winked to him, but he only cringed at the sound. 

He remembered seeing the angry Mariana Chayten in the apprentice ring, the other Masters ghosting over her as if she didn’t exist.  _ She’s too old to be a Padawan now, anyway, _ they’d whispered behind her back.  _ Her anger left her alone, her anger at herself. Besides, look at those eyes; how is she not a Sith? _

Mace Windu’s tired eyes settled on her all the time, but Kenobi knew he had no interest in the girl as a student. 

When it was Kenobi’s turn to stalk down the aisle to stare at the panting, sweating Initiates, he was acutely aware of the awe that had lingered on their faces.  _ The Sithkiller, _ they seemed to scream, though their lips didn’t move. But the only one who stared straight forward, their face as placid as a fall stream during low tide, was that white-haired, gold-eyed Mariana. Her black robes hugged her waist, accentuating her age, and Kenobi smirked, feeling a likeness with her. Her gold saber sat in her right hand, tip twirling subconsciously in the sand and leaving glass behind.  _ You, _ he’d said.  _ You’re supposed to be a Temple Guard?  _ The Mando’a rolled off his tongue like silk, and somehow, he knew she’d understand. It seemed to be her thing, anyway. 

Her facial expression didn’t change.  _ They think that I should be hidden away, too dangerous to be seen with them otherwise, _ she’d replied, the same fluency with Mando’a flowing with her as Basic did. 

_ You know Mando’a. I’m impressed, _ he’d murmured. 

Her gaze, like molten gold, turned to him.  _ Why? I’ve got nothing better to do with my time not being selected by the others for the last three years. I’m now fluent in twelve languages and proficient in most forms of combat, not that you’d paid attention enough to care.  _

Shocked gasps came from the younger Initiates beside her, all seeming to think,  _ She just said that! To the  _ **_Sithkiller_ ** _! _

A laugh had left Kenobi’s throat.  _ Yes, I like you, _ he’d said, taking her by the shoulder.  _ I’d like to train you, if you don’t mind.  _

She looked him up and down, chewing on her bottom lip, then shrugged.  _ What the hell, why not. _

_ Language, Chayten!  _ An angered Mace shouted as they left the ring, and the rebellious, punk Jedi Padawan snorted, a grin on her face. 

_ Old man, _ she’d muttered to herself,  _ always chasin’ after me. _

Kenobi had smiled, knowing she didn’t know he heard her. 

Skywalker had clung to her, too, and Jinn had joked that it seemed like the Tatooine native had chosen them over him. But even so, the young Skywalker learned jointly from Jinn and Kenobi, though the latter did his best to shoo him off back to his master. A part of him was still bitter, he felt; stealing him away from his master before he was ready. 

Kenobi left. The boy grew older. He still watched from afar, that stranger in his bed after a drunken one night stand and a face in the crowd.  _ You seem to care for that little 'desert rat,’  _ the voice of Qui-Gon echoed back to him. 

He remembered the nights locked in drunken agony, lost in heated embraces. Anakin didn't. Not after what happened. 

The memory flickered in and out of his vision, the ginger’s face twitching as he tried to shove it aside. 

_ The Council-- All the blood-- he hadn't meant to-- _

“ _ Kenobi!” _ Ventress shouted at him, and the Sith leapt from his chair, the terracotta cup shattering on the floor. 

Her blue eyes studied his reaction, tearing him apart from the inside. “So, I take it you didn't hear the message.” 

Kenobi took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I didn't.” 

“We’re headed for Coruscant.” Ventress shoved herself off the doorframe, then looked at the pieces of clay scattered about. “And you might want to clean that up. Z’ev would be heartbroken.” 

With a small flick of the Force, the pieces came swirling back into his hand, fitting together perfectly and sealing back together. “It's not the first time I've broken this.” 

Ventress huffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah yeah. Whatever, Sidious has a mission. I'll fill you in on the way.” 

Numbly, Kenobi walked towards Ventress, eyes dull and shoulders slumped. She didn't say anything as she walked alongside him; she just watched, cool blue resting on molten gold. 

Even as he boarded the ship and set the coordinates routinely, his focus was slipping. 

 

_ “So,” Kenobi finally said, blue eyes resting on the white-haired teen that lay across her bed on her stomach, wet hair hanging about her face in damp, curly clumps, the tips grazing the tile floor that she seemed to hover so close to.  _

_ “So,” she echoed back, her fingers flitting over the datapad that hung closer to the floor.  _

_ “The other masters have attempted to explain to me why taking you in was a mistake,” he sighed.  _

_ She paused, but moved on, her slim hands making quick work of the puzzles on her screen. “I don't think that's for them to decide.”  _

_ “I agree wholeheartedly,” Kenobi smirked, then sat beside her. “Mariana, I cannot help you if you don't at least give me a chance.”  _

_ “So you can leave like everyone else does?” She sighed, shooing away his hand that rested on her shoulder.  _

_ “Who left you?” He asked, and she sat up, her molten gold meeting his. “Is that why they all despise you?” _

_ “Master Windu told me of my family when I was a small child,” she snapped. “Born to a Jedi woman and a Sith father. He tried to train the Sith out of me. Tried to rip the very Force that made me who I am out of me....” She looked away. “He meant well.”  _

_ “The one thing I've learned from Master Windu,” Kenobi smirked, “is that he may be a major hardass, but he still cares about everyone who steps in front of him in that council room.”  _

_ Mariana raised a thin eyebrow. “I didn't think the Sithkiller would swear. Too uncivilized, I would think.” A smile graced his face, but a dark cunning Kay behind it, one that Mariana knew all too well and related to. She returned it, then nodded. “Luminara Unduli. You know her?”  _

_ “Well. I've trained with her on many occasions. Supposedly she's getting ready for her trials. I learned much from her, really.”  _

_ Mariana smiled to herself. “She's my friend. Her and Kit Fisto. They've helped me when no one else would. They make everything that goes on in here --” she tapped her head “--a little less terrifying.”  _

_ Kenobi smiled. “You know, I think I have just the thing.”  _

_ “If you say 'meditation’ one more time, I might actually punch you,” she hissed.  _

_ Kenobi laughed. Yes, he liked this one: her fire combated his quiet focus in a beautiful way, and they had much to learn from each other. “Let's go on an adventure. Where to?” _

_ “How many laws do you want to break?” She hesitantly asked.  _

_ A conniving smile crept onto his lips as she explained her plan, everything she knew about the Temple and the Sith, about everything she had learned from Senator Palpatine and everything she’d experienced when wandering underground Coruscant at night. Mariana was a chameleon, but a rebel, Kenobi realized. She would do everything in her power to fit in, but she would just as easily tear it down from the outside as she would inside.  _

_Your first weapon,_ _a voice crooned at him, but the Jedi in him shooed it away, taking the young Padawan under his arm as she spun her stories. Mariana forced him into dark clothes that weren't his Jedi robes. She lead him through the tunnels under the Temple, deeper into the frameworks of the Jedi annihilation of the Sith the millennium before._

_ “The legend is,” she hummed, lighting a torch and hoisting it off the rack, “that this is all that remains of the old Sith Temple that the Jedi built on top of. Supposedly it's why the Council can't tell that there's a resurgence of Sith blood, and Master Windu himself believes that my father and Maul were the last two.”  _

_ “I don't,” Kenobi breathed, walking forward deeper into the shadows. “It's.... So cold. I haven't felt this since.... Since....” Since Naboo, since Maul, his body seemed to scream. But his lips refused to move, the chill paralyzing him to the spot.  _

_ “It's the Dark Side,” Mariana quietly said, walking up alongside him. “It is in a Jedi’s best interest to spend as much time as they can in places like this, in my opinion. They must know what the Dark is capable of in order to see the Light's beauty.”  _

_ “Who taught you that?” Kenobi grinned, and then said, “Who is teaching who?” _

_ “Perhaps I read too much,” she smiled back, tossing her waist-length hair behind her. “But with Master Windu developing Vaapad, I suppose it could be based in some fact.”  _

_ She nodded towards the center of the room, then lit the rest of the torches with a simple gesture. “How did you do that?” Kenobi asked her, shocked.  _

_ “I learned it from Master Jinn, who told me he learned it from the Nightsisters on Dathomir,” she grinned. “Fire lives and breathes, like you and I do. And it can be controlled if you focus enough.”  _

_ “You're fourteen!” Kenobi rolled his eyes.  _

_ “And I also barely sleep. You'd be surprised what someone can do when they put their mind to it.”  _

_ Kenobi grinned down at her, the girl playing with her Padawan braid. The beads twirled in her fingers, then released it, shoving a torch towards the shadows. “Who’s there?” She shouted, and a creature echoed back laughter, whispering in a language Kenobi didn’t understand.  _

_ “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, child,” the voice finally hissed in retaliation. “You don’t know the plan set forth for your young Master.”  _

_ “Where he goes, I follow,” she snapped back, throwing the torch into the shadow.  _

_ A scream followed, then simultaneously, the torches that lined the walls went out, leaving the two Jedi in total darkness.  _

_ “Stay close,” Kenobi murmured, tugging her to his back and igniting his blade. She followed suit, blue spinning with gold.  _

**_You know nothing,_ ** _ the voice hissed.  _ **_You ARE nothing._ **

_ Mariana pressed closer to Kenobi’s back, her panic slowly turning to fear. Kenobi swallowed it, using logic as his Padawan deftly cut into the shadows.  _

_ With a scream, she fell away from him, her saber clattering away from him and switching off. “Mariana!” He shouted into the darkness, but with no reply.  _

**_Your little Padawan is so prideful,_ ** _ the voice hissed, seeming to come from everywhere.  _ **_You can’t save her. She’ll fall, like her father, like her father’s father, like every Jedi who has come here!_ ** __

_ Kenobi snarled, blue eyes narrowing in the harsh glint of his saber. “Not my Padawan, you freak,” he howled, and just like that, the torches relit, and Mariana sat shaking with her back against the wall, her hands clutching around her ears. Tears slid down her cheeks as she furiously rebuilt her walls, the pale girl in dark clothing staring out over nothing. _

_ “Are you okay?” Kenobi asked her, squatting beside her.  _

_ “Physically, yes,” she murmured, and then leaned into him, her tears staining the black shirt he wore. “I won’t make you come down here again. I thought I could control it.”  _

_ “You will, one day,” Kenobi nodded, hugging her close to his chest. “I’ll make sure of it.”  _

 

A small tear leaked down his cheek. He scrubbed it away much faster than he wished, and Ventress patted his shoulder. “I miss her too.” 

“I wish I didn't have to kill her,” he numbly hummed back. 

Ventress sighed. “Kenobi, it was you or her.” 

“If Anakin had kept his nose out of it, she would still be alive,” Kenobi snapped back. 

Ventress crossed her arms over her chest. “And you would be the same miserable, angry, manipulative wreck of a man I first met.” 

Kenobi sighed, scrubbing at his face. “I hate all of this. I wish this would all end.”

“Butterflies and daffodils are all nice,” Ventress hummed, “but I would be bored out of my mind without this war.” 

Kenobi chuckled. “Me too.” 

Ventress clapped him on the shoulder. “There you are, just giggles and grins now, aren’t you?” 

“More or less,” he shrugged, then looked at the steaming cup of tea that Ventress had set forth before him. “What’s this?” he asked. 

“Not sure. Whatever you had on here, I guess. Couldn’t read the box, looks like Mando’a.” She sipped at her cup. “It’s good, whatever it is.” 

Kenobi grinned, and Ventress returned it. “What happened to us, Kenobi?” She breathed. “We were once so sure of ourselves, that we were full of the right choices for us, for our friends...” 

As she spoke, his mind wandered to Anakin, the man stirring at the touch of the Sith. “We aren't who we used to be,” Ventress continued, and Anakin seemed to tune in, clutching his daughter closer to him. “When we were young we were full of hope that we could do something greater than ourselves, something that wouldn't lock us in a state of perpetual war and killing. To be fair, I don't mind the killing sometimes. But I.... Kenobi, I'm tired,” she finally said. “I don't want to do this anymore.” 

Kenobi nodded. “I understand. But you're in this until the end, Ventress.” 

“I'm still here for you, Kenobi. You're my friend, and I just can't leave you.” 

Kenobi snorted, sipping his tea. “That's rich, coming from the one who left me on Kashyyyk to be Wookie food.” 

Ventress glared at him, and he was acutely aware of Anakin’s amusement before he slowly detached himself from him, Kenobi sullenly allowing the departure of his....  _ Him.  _ “You had to ruin the moment, didn't you?” She deadpanned, then laughed. “Whatever, you nerfherder. Get some sleep, you look like shit.” 

“Could say the same for you,” Kenobi hummed. 

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, asshole.” 

“No problem,” he winked, then watched as she left the room, leaving the Sith in a silent shadow of space. 

_ What’s wrong? _ He felt Anakin ask, and Kenobi immediately threw up his walls, scrubbing tears from his eyes. 

_ Nothing, _ he replied, shoving the Jedi out of his mind and blocking him out, his hands clenching around the teacup in his hands and shattering it, the shards leaving the palms of his hands a bloody, mangled mess. The crimson danced across the durasteel of the table, the cold of space settling in over him much like the silence did. Sound didn’t carry, so if he screamed.... Would anyone hear him? 

His fingers ached for the obsidian blade that he had somehow grown addicted to, the sharp pain as much of a delicacy as the pleasure of sex. Kenobi had carried the knife as a crutch, something that kept him grounded. Silvery scars still played across his skin, a pale white compared to the gentle pink of his skin. Blood slid down his wrists, the red somehow the only color he could see. 

And briefly, he wondered how he’d gotten this self-destructive. 

He’d been promised power, fortune,  _ infamy, _ everything he ever wanted. He’d had any lover he ever cared to chase in his bed, he’d felt love, pain, and suffering like any other man. He wasn’t above it, he wasn’t below it; but Kenobi wasn’t happy. 

Blood covered his hands. Some of it was innocent, others not; but he’d killed them nonetheless, a monster in a man’s body. 

He didn’t know how long he stared at the ribbons and pools that had followed his small episode of anger, of a lack of control, but he knew Ventress sensed something when she woke up. 

“You haven’t moved,” she hummed, staring at his back. 

“Observant,” he muttered dryly. 

“Is that....” she sniffed the air, and then he heard her rush to his side, staring at his hands. “Blood. Kenobi, seriously?” 

He shrugged. 

“No, no, no,” she hissed, grabbing him at the wrists, his blood staining her hands. “Stop this, Kenobi. You’re going to push too far one day, and I will lose you.” 

“You’d be fine without me.”

It was almost as if Kenobi heard someone else saying those words, as if they hadn’t come from his own mouth. Ventress paused, and then quietly went to the sink to wash her hands of his blood, returning with a first aid kit. One by one, she pulled the shards of ceramic out of his hands, the metal tweezers growing red in the dim light of the ship’s lights. 

“Why do you stick around?” he quietly asked her, golden eyes burning with pain. 

It took the Nightsister a moment to answer, her slim fingers working deftly around the supplies as she carefully rearranged his skin with the tweezers, returning the pieces to their rightful place. Green tendrils danced across her fingers, the haze of Nightsister magic that should be familiar to him lulling him to a sense of rest and calm. “Because,” she hummed. “I didn’t realize I needed a reason.” 

“I’m a wreck, Asajj,” he choked out, and she pressed a warm hand to his face. He didn’t think he’d ever see so much emotion from the normally-aggressive, anarchist Ventress, but she had opened herself up to him as much as he had her. “Feeble flesh, translucent bones--”

“The kind of temple where the whores and villains try to tempt the holistic tomes,” she finished. “I’ve read the poem too, Kenobi. But you’re  _ my _ wreck. You’re  _ my _ Kenobi,  _ my  _ hero. You’re not a good man, Kenobi, not even close, but you’ve been good to me. You’re everything I need in a mentor, in a friend. You’re a terrifying warrior. But do you regret this?” 

“Regret what?” He asked her, meeting her intense gaze. 

“The Sith. This war, any of it,” she murmured. 

He paused, and then he sighed. “No,” he whispered, and then met her gaze once again. “I want to change the galaxy as we know it. One man out of trillions, and I will  _ own _ them. I came from nothing. I  _ will _ be someone, or so help me, I will tear this entire world apart trying to make it happen.” 

A smile. “That’s it, Kenobi.”

He returned her smile, and the ship lurched as they fell out of hyperspace. 

“Showtime,” she muttered, squeezing the mended flesh of Kenobi’s hand. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” he playfully shot back, gold meeting blue. “I’ve been  _ waiting _ for this day.” 

She grinned back, and Kenobi commed his little pet, the perfect image of a composed man. “Are you ready, Eeth?” Kenobi sing-songed, and Ventress had to suppress chills at his ability to change his mood as if it were nothing. 

_ “Yes, my master,” _ the Jedi hummed back, and a sickeningly evil smile cut Kenobi’s face. 

“Perfect,” he replied. “Standby for my call. I won’t keep you waiting long.” 

_ “Yes, my master.” _

~*~*~

The steps were a nightmare, at least to Quinlan. Inside the Temple, the floors were rocky, unstable, and overall unkempt, and there were hundreds of  _ other _ staircases that he and Avalon could have taken, but no, it was  _ this one. _

He hated this job.  

“Why are we taking these stairs again?” He asked Avalon, who was half a flight ahead of him. She’d left the wheelchair behind, but he could tell her body was screaming in agony as she clambered up after him.

“Because it’s symbolic, Quinlan. By you taking this journey with me, there’s a  _ small _ chance you can be included as an honorary member of the Order. Don’t hold your breath, though.”  She sounded irritated and scared, Quinlan decided. He tossed his dark hair out of his eyes and sighed, the end finally in sight.  There, in a chamber the size of the Council’s back on Coruscant, were twelve elders, standing in a circle with sabers drawn, all in their right hand. They seemed to dance across the limestone, the darkened stone beneath them seeming more than they wished. 

“You bring with you the outsider, Master Avalon,” A booming voice spoke. “Is this the Jedi you spoke of?”  

Avalon nodded, her position just outside the circle. “Yes, Minister. This is Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master. I’m sure you all know the nature of my missions on Lothal and later Coruscant, and he was the one who got me in the door.”  

The dark man in gray with a teal lightsaber at what Quinlan would assume was the head of the circle nodded. “May the Force be with you, Master Vos.”  

“And you,” he replied softly.  

“Is he to stay for the entire test, or will he be asked to leave the chamber?” Avalon murmured quietly.  

“He made this journey with you, Avalon. As far as we are concerned, he cannot simply…  _ walk away. _ ” The minister beckoned Avalon in, and she stepped in, left foot forward.  

“Your master, Lors Tekka, named you as his successor. Do you know why?”  

“No, Minister.”  

“He believed that a young mind in charge would point the Order in the direction best suited to it, opposed to clinging to traditions.” The Minister studied his blade, blue eyes sharp. “What say you, Master Avalon?”  

“It was what the man wished, Minister. I cannot judge him.”  

“I was afraid you’d say that,” the Minister sighed. His eyes turned to the one at the right of him. “Kill her.”  

“ _ No!” _ Quinlan shouted, and Avalon drew her blade and parried the block as she held her hand out to the Jedi to stop him.  

“Quiet, Quin. This is my fight,” she murmured, eyes focused on the Twi’lek girl in front of her.  

He uncomfortably stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. One by one, each of the circle went to fight her, and it always ended the same way; Avalon had them on their backs, holding back from the killing blow.  

She stood, patiently, as the last victim stood and returned to their spot, a small smile on their flushed faces. Quinlan watched with worry as the Minister stepped forward, Avalon immediately dropping to her knees and pressing her forehead to the floor. It was all so similar, yet so different from the trials he faced when becoming a Knight. 

“You’re more dynamic than when you were in my tutelage, Master Avalon. You know what you must do.”  She nodded, and the Minister lifted her chin to have her look him in the eye. “Open your mind to me.”  

Quinlan sat back and studied the situation, feeling Avalon’s shields slowly lower. She seemed raw, vulnerable, out of control—not like her normal self. Her very body shook when he entered her mind, but it didn’t seem to….  _ Hurt _ her. Every fiber of his being told him to stop this, to help her, but he ignored it, allowing the ritual to take place.  It seemed like forever, feeling images flash before her eyes. She didn’t move an inch, and after the initial shock, she didn’t even shake.

“Loyal, you have been to us, Master Avalon. You followed orders, to the letter.” The Minister’s eyes flicked to Quinlan. “Even your protective friend has played his role.”  

“This isn’t about Quinlan,” she struggled out, silver eyes narrowing.  

“Ah, ah, ah, Master. You may not speak.” The Minister walked to Quinlan, beckoning him in. “You have served Master Avalon well. Do you wish to become one of us?”  

Quinlan looked to Avalon, who was silent, staring straight forward. Her shields were still down, but she was keeping her mind carefully blank.  

“Avalon?”  

“It is your choice, Quin,” she murmured back. “I will not be the deciding factor.”  

Quinlan looked from her back to the Minister, and then stepped in the circle.  

“Avalon, rise.” The Minister walked back to his spot, and the girl rose. “You know what to do.”  

Quinlan looked at her with confusion as she turned, her sabers clasped on her belt. “Come here, Quin.” Her hand extended for his as he approached, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as she moved into place. “This is what we call  _ homni. _ There are rules, like everything else within any order. Hold your hand like this.” She held her hand out, palm up, inside of her wrist touching his. He mimicked her movement, eyes studying her.  

“What is this for?”  

“In our language,  _ homni _ means  _ balance,  _ or dynamic. Follow me, I’ll show you.” She stepped her left foot over her right, and Quinlan followed, the two maintaining distance as they moved. “In the olden days, we called this  _ the dance of dragons. _ Legend had it that the dragons lived in sets of two, never more, never less. It’s kind of like the Sith’s Rule of Two, but…. No one has power.  _ Yin _ and  _ Yang _ . Good and evil. Dark and light.” She picked up speed as she was talking, and he followed without question. He realized what she was doing, at one point, the bare wrists touching in the middle of them.  

_ Let me do this on my own, _ he murmured.  

She was gone from his mind that instant. He didn’t stumble, just kept his eyes focused on hers.  

“If you can do this, Quin,” she murmured, “you and I will be connected in the Books of the Gray.”  

“What does that mean?”  

She only smiled. “Master and student, forever. Every master has a student, Quinlan. Like you and Aayla. Like me and Lors Tekka, or Anakin and Ahsoka. Always two, never more, never less.”  

He didn’t really remember what happened next. He was fairly certain that the whole teaching-while-in-a-ritual thing wasn’t conventional, but this entire situation wasn’t conventional. When they had finished, she had her face pressed into his neck, his arms around her waist. It was like…. He honestly had nothing to compare this situation to.  

“Don’t say it, Quin, don’t you dare,” she murmured.  

“I’m pretty sure this is a position we’ve never been in,” he grinned, and there were multiple laughs in the room. “Thanks, I’m here all week.”  

She shoved him off, rubbing at her face. “I hate you.”  

“Oh, you love me,” he winked, and the Minister looked at them with mild annoyance.  

“That was unconventional,” he stated, blue eyes scouring Quinlan’s.  

“Gee, it’s not like I thrive on being unconventional,” he rolled his eyes, sighing. “Besides, I’m here for her.” He nodded to Avalon.  

“Quin, please shut up.”  

“Yes’m.”  

The Minister made a hand motion, and Avalon grabbed Quinlan’s hand, backing him into the center of the circle.  

“Draw your weapons, and stand back to back,” the Minister sighed.  

They did so, and Quinlan grinned. The calm nerves he got from Avalon kept his adrenaline up, his mind alert.  

“Good luck,” she whispered to him.  

“I don’t need luck, I have you,” he winked, and she grinned.  

The twelve were upon them.  

A few minutes later, the Elders were returned to their circle, the two friends in the center of the circle once again. 

“You have passed our tests, Jedi, Master Avalon.” The Minister stood in front of them, the two on their knees and pressing their heads to the floor. “Do you accept your duties as Grandmaster, as our next  _ Baransu no Kage _ ?”  

“I do,” she murmured.  

She was beckoned to rise, and she approached the fireplace behind the circle. A small brand was raised, pressed on the left ring finger of her hand. Quinlan flinched, but she only closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. When she returned, she knelt next to him, the brand an angry red series of three circles with a cross in the center.  

“Quinlan Vos, never before have we had this honorary member selection. Do you accept the duties of protecting the Grandmaster as her personal soldier until the day of either of your deaths?”  

He looked to Avalon, the girl’s gray eyes focused on something beyond what was in the room, likely distancing herself from the pain of the angry burn on her hand.  _ Sure, Quinlan,  _ he grunted.  _ Sign yourself away to another people, to another type of Force. Definitely the most sane decision you’ve made in the last twenty years.  _ But, he reasoned, it wasn’t the Gray Jedi he was signing himself to. It was Avalon. And he could protect her.  

“Yes, I do,” he finally murmured.  

He was beckoned up, and he was branded on his right hand, mirroring Avalon’s. He grunted and flinched, but did not cry out. He was fairly proud of himself on that. Avalon gripped his hand with hers in pride as she watched on, already feeling the grasp of what was transpiring in his mind.  

“Welcome to the Order, Quinlan Vos, and may the Force be with you, Grandmaster Avalon.” He raised his hands, the blue robes with gold embroidery draping in waves of silk as the entire circle raised their voices in unison.  _ “Flowing through all, there is balance.”  _

“There is no Light without the Dark,” Avalon murmured back.  

_ “There is no peace without the passion to create; there is no passion without peace to guide.”  _

“Through passion, I gain focus.”  

_ “Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act.” _

“Through knowledge, I gain power.” 

_ “Power blinds without the serenity to see.”  _

“Through serenity, I gain strength.”  

_ “There is freedom in life; there is purpose in death.”  _

“Through victory, I gain harmony.”  

_ “The Force is all things and I am the Force.” _

“There is only the Force,” Avalon murmured in reply, her body stock still and her companion looking on in awe.  

When silence fell, and the Minister dropped his hands, the leader spoke. “May the Force be with you.”  

The circle disbanded, factioning out into groups that chatted gently and quietly. Quinlan slumped, pressing his hands against the floor and finally allowing the images pass through his mind. Bloodshed, fear, hatred had pushed the Gray Jedi here. This was a temple of peace, of unity.  

He lifted his hands and his eyes.  

_ All these broken souls,  _ he murmured to himself, and he stood, letting Avalon lead him away from the quiet groups.

“Will you stay?” she asked him as he finally ended up carrying her down the stairs, and he sighed. “I have to, don’t I?” 

She shrugged. “We are a people at war, Quinlan. You are needed on Coruscant. I sense it in my blood, in my bones. I will come with you.” 

“But aren’t you needed--” 

“Quinlan,” she sighed, scrubbing at her face. “Don’t overthink this.” 

He paused, then nodded. “Home?” 

“Home,” she replied, and they walked off together, boarding and heading for Coruscant. 

 

And there, a conflicted Kenobi stood in total darkness, lit only by the blue hologram of Eeth Koth.  _ “Yes, my master?” _

Kenobi closed his eyes, centering himself. “Execute the operation. I will meet you there.” 

_ “As you wish,” _ Eeth nodded, the Zabrak cutting the transmission. 

He hoped this was all worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> momma ventress to the rescue!
> 
> and yeah, so, Avalon has this disease called EDS, or Elhers-Danlos syndrome. Almost all, if not all, contortionists have this syndrome. It wasn't quite described accurately in the chapter (it's more than just a 'ligament disease'), but yeah, it's a pretty nasty disease. There's no cure for it and it's degenerative, so everyone with it ends up in a wheelchair at some point, and their skin is so fragile they rarely can hold stitches. It's some nasty shit.   
> Also, I'd like to thank everyone who's made it this far with me and those who have just started this journey. Now that I'm on break (and not sickly), I hope to be able to get my shit together and actually pass all my classes this semester 'cause I don't want to make up more credits than I have to. Because of my extreme need to finish this year strong, my posting may become slower, but I will still be writing, don't worry. I'm still here. I promise.   
> (I also need to stop tormenting Kenobi.)  
> (whoamikiddingi'mnotgoingto)  
> Until next time!


	12. { t w e l v e }

_ The quiet hugged the Jedi Temple like death clung to a corpse _ . Anakin had once remembered it full of life, of hope, but the empty hallways only echoed the losses of war. Pain had become a constant friend of this place, of everything and everyone in it. Losses... Losses were common, he mused, but the once-full hallways now remained empty, those who once walked them either gone, in war meetings, or dead. His master was among those on a memorial wall, along with people he once looked up to. 

_ Leia.  _ His daughter. She would love this place, he thought. It was so full of art, of knowledge, that she could be happy here. And Luke.... Well, he would spend his time directing the mechanics, no doubt. Like father, like son. But he sent them from his mind, leaving him and Aayla in the comfortable silence. 

“Knight Skywalker,” she hummed, the late teens girl staring up at him. “Might I ask.... Why do you remain here? With them, you could be happy. I saw the way you look at Leia, Skywalker, and don't worry, I won't say anything, but I.... I'm worried that this isn't where your heart is.”

Anakin paused, the ghost of a memory on the edge of his tongue but as quick as it came, it was gone. “When I was a boy, I wanted to be free. Then, I wanted to be a Jedi. As I got older, I chased things I shouldn't have, but I wanted to be a father. And now...” He paused, sighing. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Aayla nodded quietly, and then she hummed, “What about Kenobi?” 

Anakin shrugged. “Depends if he makes himself a friend or a foe.” 

She sighed, tugging her cloak around her thin body. He took off his own, draping it across her shoulders without a second thought. Coruscant had started getting colder, Anakin had noticed; and with that cold, came dark whispers and shadows. He had heard some of the Initiates talking, about how strange things had started happening at night. Anakin somehow knew none of this was natural. The angry, dark thumbprint of the Dark that haunted him now haunted his family and his friends, stains of blood invisible, yet too hard to wash off. Threats lingered in the air, tension between Padawans and Initiates adding a chill to the crisp morning. 

He quietly headed for the gardens, his boots gathering dew as they strolled across the grass. Aayla quietly departed once her exhaustion set in, but Anakin stayed awake, standing in the gardens. The sense of foreboding was gone here. The plants somehow made everything slow down, calm down, and everything cleaner. Agony seemed so far away from nature. After all, life was just a cycle of beginnings and endings. 

His mechanical hand ghosted over the green leaves, the silence welcoming and the heat moreso from the damp cold of Kenobi’s palace, to the bitter cold of Jedha and space, and even to the chill that lingered in the Temple. But here, it was warm, safe, and gentle. 

“I used to come here myself when I needed to calm down,” a familiar voice hummed, and Anakin turned in shock, seeing Kenobi standing there, smiling gently. His black tunic hugged his lithe frame, and Anakin gawked at him, confusion and compliments tied together in a knot on his tongue. “This was Qui-Gon’s favorite spot, too. He loved plants. He always seemed so full of the Force, of life, as if no one could strike him down.” Kenobi’s gloved hand caressed a rose, plucking it from the plant and proffering it to the Jedi. 

Anakin took it gingerly, smiling down at the red petals. “Thank you, Kenobi.” 

“Don’t thank me. I just want you to understand, that no matter what I do,” he sighed, his face solemn, “I do it to protect you,  _ woyunoks.” _

Anakin opened his mouth to answer, confusion on his lips, but it was followed by the sound of a lightsaber igniting. The rose fell from his hand, the sound of it falling to the ground like the sound of cannons going off in his head. 

“Kenobi, what are you  _ doing?” _ Skywalker hissed, and he didn't miss the glint in his former lover’s eyes. Their breath clouded in front of them, cheeks stained a ruddy color from the cold wind outside the greenhouse. Gold met blue. Tradition greeted the age of the new hope, of change. And in turn, red met blue, purple and white sparks scattering across the plants and soft dirt beneath their boots. 

“Don't do this,” Anakin pleaded, but the hot breath of Kenobi’s ghosted Anakin’s face as he replied. 

“ _ I have no choice. _ ” 

Desperation mirrored itself, pain washing across the small connection they still had. Kenobi’s red blade twirled in a deadly arc, and Anakin rolled beneath a table of plants to escape the swing. The hum of the blade was soon joined by another, and almost immediately after, the alarm was raised. 

“What did you do?!” Kenobi shouted at an unknown figure, rage boiling on the surface. 

Anakin rolled back out, kept in a low crouch, and saw the confused, almost child-like expression on Eeth Koth’s face. “I did as you asked!” 

Anakin didn't need to probe the Jedi to know what had happened, but his rage soon matched Kenobi’s. “You come here,” Anakin snarled, his blue blade’s tip twitching against the dirt, “and threaten my family, my friends, without any sense of remorse?” 

Soon, Mace and a few others had joined them, sabers level with Kenobi. “Skywalker, stay out of this,” Mace warned, but the Hero With No Fear did not listen. He never did, after all. 

He met Kenobi swing for swing and forced him out of the greenhouse, back towards the Temple. Every ounce of his pain, of his agony, of his anger, found its way into his blade, crossing with Kenobi’s desperation and patience. Mace and his friends followed, but they couldn't keep up with the speed and ferocity of Skywalker and Kenobi’s duel. Every placed footfall of each man was an instinctually calculated decision, the two so used to fighting as they were to fucking. 

Kenobi eventually got Anakin to back off, rage boiling in the Jedi’s blood. Gold circled blue, and the sound of metal slamming against the marble floor greeted the duo. Ventress lead the droids, the clankers chattering aimlessly amongst themselves as they did so. The said group seemed to swarm the Jedi, and even Mace Windu seemed a little defeated. 

“There’s so many,” Kit Fisto breathed, eyes wide. “What are we going to do?” 

As Anakin watched, Kenobi stood alongside Ventress, distress clear in his body language but his face carefully even. Mace sighed, shaking his head. “I don't know.” 

“I do,” Anakin hummed. Mace’s brown eyes turned, shocked, to the blonde, whose blue saber twitched impatiently at his side. 

“Your move,” Kenobi called, and the Jedi filled the ranks behind Skywalker and Mace. 

“What's your plan?” Mace asked, and Ventress raised her hand, her droids preparing to fire. 

“No time to explain,” Anakin rushed out, and then shouted, “Fall back! Protect the younglings at any cost!” 

“Skywalker!” Windu roared, and as the Jedi Order stood, torn between two leaders, some made the decision to listen. Droid fire met their sabers, and more and more fell back, avoiding the blaster bolts. 

“Cover me,” Anakin hummed to Mace, who rolled his eyes as the main group behind them charged behind Anakin, fury in his blood and the Force on his tongue. 

Somehow, taking on Kenobi was easier with Ventress to deal with too. He had surrounded himself so tightly with the two Darksiders that the droids did nothing to defend them without risking their own harm, which, would have killed them in return. Mace Windu was the only one who could keep up, it seemed, the rage of the Master familiar to Skywalker. He was glad, for once, that he wasn't the brunt of it. 

“Anakin, stop this right now and I can help you,” Kenobi begged, and Skywalker howled in response. 

“ _ I will never join you!” _

But the two Darksiders managed to shove the two Jedi back, the long battle wearing them tired and the Sith having the advantage of numbers. 

“We would have won by now if you hadn't sent most of them away!” Windu howled at him as they retreated down the hallways, Ventress and Kenobi at their heels. 

“Are we seriously going to argue about my plan now? At least I had one!” Mace only huffed as distance between them and the two intruders grew, eventually tugging Anakin down a secret passage. “I was going to pretend I didn't know this existed,” Anakin hummed. “Shields up. He can still find us if we don't make ourselves invisible. And follow me.” 

Anakin snuck past Mace, using a small flame in the palm of his hand to illuminate the way. “Who taught you that?” Mace quietly asked. 

“Well, Qui-Gon originally told me that fire is as alive as you and I. I didn't believe him until I saw Mariana use it, and she taught me how.” Anakin pressed forward, the clay turning to stone with every step they took down the narrow passage. 

“How is Mariana?” Mace probed. “Last I heard, she was being held captive.” 

“She's dead,” Anakin stated bluntly. “Kenobi killed her. Said it was her or me, and he made his choice. They fought for years, so it was probably not as personal as he made it sound. Here we are.” Anakin extinguished the flame, letting the total darkness take over as he turned towards Mace, grabbing his vest. “Hold on, and whatever you do, don't look down.” 

“Skywalker, I can't  _ see _ \--” 

Anakin vaulted them high into the air, latching onto a ledge and using the Force to toss Windu up into that said ledge before clambering up himself. 

“What the hell was that?” Mace snarled, and Anakin covered his mouth, crouching beside him. 

“Watch,” he hummed, and one by one, crystals around them began to glow, illuminating them in reds and blues and purples. 

“Kyber crystals,” Mace breathed, his face washed of all shadows from the lights. 

“Enough for an entire army. I spent a  _ lot _ of time here after Master Jinn died. But I didn't bring you here to see the sights, Master Windu.” 

“There is a  _ battle, _ Skywalker, I would hope not.” 

Anakin grinned. “I always love air assaults. This cave leads straight into the cavern beneath the Council room, and, if one so wished, he could eavesdrop.” 

“You didn't,” Mace groaned. 

“I did, I have, and I still do,” Skywalker amended. “But to be fair, I never had anything else better to do with my life other than being a pain in the ass for you. Let's go,” he hummed, leading the Master through the caverns. 

It was a short trip, shorter than Anakin remembered, but he was older, bigger; he likely covered more distance than he used to. Mace hunkered down beside him, the quiet man listening intently over the sound of his own boiling anger. 

_ “Kenobi, you fool,”  _ Ventress howled at him. “They were  _ right in front of you! _ ” 

“They just....  _ Vanished, _ Ventress! What was I supposed to do?” 

Anakin could feel Kenobi’s rage burning as the Sith paced the Council room, his boots clacking against the floor. “One of you knows where Skywalker is,” he heard Kenobi say. “And I will kill you, one by one, until  _ someone _ speaks up. Am I clear?” 

“He's got prisoners,” Anakin whispered to Mace. “If only I had Snips in there.” 

Mace lurched forward, but Anakin gripped his arm, shushing him. “No. Not yet. I sense we have allies approaching.... We should greet them and explain the situation. Well, you should greet them. I will have to deal with Kenobi.” 

“Are you  _ insane? _ He’ll kill you, like he did Mariana,” Mace snarled. 

“Listen to me  _ very closely _ , Mace,” Anakin rushed out, quietly, quickly. “If I don't make it, if I fall, if I die, I need you to hide Snips. Hide her, hide whoever is with her. Hide them from me so I can't find them.” 

“Why?” 

Anakin met Mace’s gaze, and then snorted. “For someone who repeatedly sent me on suicide missions, told me I would never be the Jedi I wanted to be, and many other things I don't care to mention,” he snorted again, “you suddenly care very much about me.” 

“I always did, Skywalker,” Mace sighed. “But why?” 

Anakin shifted, and then said, “I have two children. Twins. Luke and Leia.” 

Mace deflated. “Senator Amidala.” 

Anakin nodded. “You understand now? Why I need you to hide Snips and hide them?” 

The Jedi Master nodded. “If we survive this.” 

“Indeed,” Anakin hummed. “I need you to meet Avalon and Quinlan in the hangar. I'll preoccupy Kenobi and Ventress until then but  _ you _ need to work with Avalon to get a plan going. She's brilliant, trust me.” 

Mace nodded, then said, “Don't get used to giving me orders, Skywalker.” 

A wicked grin was flashed as Anakin pointed him in the right direction. “Wouldn't dream of it, Windu.”

The younger Jedi clambered up into a hole in the wall about twenty feet up, grunting with the effort, and didn't even bother to look to see where Mace went. Anakin moved the tile that covered the hole, then set it back, quietly, slowly, hidden behind a potted plant. 

Aayla caught his eye, the girl tied with her hands behind her back. She showed Anakin that they were Force cuffs, and they all had them. 

Anakin managed to snap her cuffs without attracting the attention of the distraught Kenobi and pissed off Ventress, and Aayla reached out to him.  _ Plan?  _

_ Distract Kenobi. Mace is coming with Quinlan and Avalon.  _

_ We’re going to need more than that to take on this army, _ Aayla hummed.  _ I got into his head on accident. There's an entire Sep fleet on the way!  _

_ By now, Avalon has informed her people and they will send help until I can get you out of here.  _ Anakin scanned the crowd.  _ How many are dead?  _

_ Only two. The rest are herding the younglings out of here or into the Sith Temple below us for safety.  _

Anakin nodded to himself.  _ Good. When I get Kenobi’s attention, I want you to get the others unchained. I'll get you your escape, too. Once you're free, inform Master Windu, and then go to the younglings and keep them protected.  _

_ Yes sir, _ she quietly replied, and then Kenobi hissed, yanking up a Padawan Anakin didn't recognize up by the hair. “Who knows where Skywalker is? No one?” Kenobi’s blade hovered close to her throat, but her face was controlled, searching, and the green eyes settled on Anakin. 

“I do,” she smirked, and took Kenobi’s surprise as a moment to break herself free and return to her sitting position beside her master. 

Kenobi glared at her, a curse preparing to cut his tongue, but Anakin leapt up, shouting, “Hey! Looking for me?” 

Kenobi paused, turning to face the Jedi. “Well. The coward finally makes an appearance.” 

“It's me you want,” Anakin hummed, taking a step forward. “Let them go.” 

“Hmm, no.” Kenobi leveled his blade with Skywalker, but there was a fear in his eyes, a shake in his hand. Anakin paused, then realization dawned on him. 

“You've been in this position before,” Anakin observed. Kenobi didn't reply, but Ventress gazed on in helpless defeat. 

“ _ Skywalker,”  _ Luminara hissed, shaking her head. Anakin ignored her, pressing forward anyway. 

“You've killed here before.” There. A widening of the eyes. “Who was it, Kenobi? Why?” 

“They wiped your  _ memory _ , Anakin. How can you stand with them?” Kenobi choked out. “Everything! Gone!” 

“About what?” Anakin asked, stepping forward once again. He was now in the center of the room, placing Kenobi’s back to the door. 

“ _ Us,”  _ Kenobi breathed, and then swung with his blade.

Anakin froze it with the Force, his mechanical hand moving gracefully with the movement. Kenobi twitched as he fought against the iron control of the Jedi, already walking so close to the Dark just to save his friends. “What have you been hiding from me, Darth Revis?” Anakin sing-songed, stalking a circle around Kenobi. 

_ Don't, Anakin, _ he felt the Sith hum, but he wanted Kenobi to understand the  _ anguish _ and  _ fear _ he commanded out of people when they're rendered powerless. This was an experiment, Anakin told himself. He was in control. 

Anakin’s fingers trailed down Revis’s bare forearms, then pried the saber from his hand, swinging it through the air. “Beautifully crafted. Obviously not your original; Ahsoka has that one.” Anakin tilted his head, staring at the ginger. “You know, sometimes I have these dreams. Blue eyes that seemed to follow me. I wonder if that's what you're talking about.” 

_ You may get hurt, Anakin. Don't press it.  _

But he didn’t listen to Kenobi, instead listening to the demons in his head.  _ You’re stronger than him, _ Anakin heard them say.  _ Prove it. _

“Ventress,” Anakin called. 

She stared at him evenly. 

“Let them go.” 

She glanced to Kenobi, whose eyes were fixed on Anakin. Something passed between the two of them, and she waved her hand, the cuffs snapping off the Jedi in the room. 

The free Jedi left, quietly, but the Padawan that had defied Kenobi lingered, her green eyes lingering on the blade in Anakin’s hand. “Go,” he murmured quietly. “I got this.” 

She nodded curtly, running out of the room. 

Anakin leveled his blue gaze with Kenobi, turning off his saber. “Who was it, Kenobi?” 

Fury raged from his golden eyes, jaw clenching. 

Anakin released his jaw, nodding. “ _ Speak,  _ Kenobi.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Kenobi howled, glaring at him. “You’d  _ love _ to know who I hurt here! What I lay witness to and what  _ you _ saw!” 

It was a sloppy move, really, on Anakin’s part; he was no Avalon, with her abilities, nor no Kenobi, but he hammered away at Kenobi’s shields, almost immediately finding a purchase in the usually-slick walls of his mind. 

With all sorts of rage, Anakin shoved forward, the chip turning into a chasm and storming in with the full force he could muster. 

And there it was, a golden, wispy memory in his alluring mind. 

_“Masters, I caught this one trying to steal a holocron,”_ _A teenaged Anakin snarled, tossing the ginger on the floor in front of the Jedi Council._

_ Shock registered on the faces of the masters, but Anakin only stared with frustration down at the man who had almost gotten away with it. He tossed the said holocron to Master Windu, then bowed before turning to leave.  _

_ “Skywalker,” Mace called. “I did not dismiss you.”  _

_ “Forgive me, Master Windu. Normally I don’t stay for vandals and thieves like him when I catch them.”  _

_ “Kenobi,” Mace breathed.  _

_ “Windu,” Kenobi nodded back, a smirk on his face. “You look well.”  _

_ “So do you,” Windu shot back, eyes narrowing. “Especially for a dead man.”  _

_ Kenobi shrugged. “Not being a Jedi has been good to me.”  _

_ Mace narrowed his eyes, his brown eyes lingering on the blue of Kenobi’s, then drew his purple saber. “Get up,” Windu snarled. “Get up! Are those colored contacts?”  _

_ “Nothing gets past you, oh-Great-Observer,” Kenobi grinned. “Surprised Skywalker didn’t recognize me. After all, he hung around me as a child.”  _

_ “I don’t know you,” Anakin snarled, hand on his saber.  _

_ “My, my, so  _ **_eager_ ** _ ,” Kenobi grinned, looking Anakin up and down. “How old are you? Seventeen?”  _

_ “Sixteen,” Anakin snapped back.  _

_ “Oh, good.” Kenobi leapt up, saber in one hand, sword in the other; Mace howled as the saber cut through his tunic, the heat only burning him but not cutting. The other Jedi leaped up in defense of their master, and Kenobi quietly thanked his lucky stars that Yoda was not there that day.  _

_ “Navini, now!” He shouted, and three girls dropped out of the rafters, each with sabers or swords in their hands. Anakin charged forward, the one with the blue and gold sabers tossing him back like he was nothing. Stunned, Anakin lay there, and Kenobi turned to the girl, nodding. “Keep an eye on him. We did, after all, come for him.”  _

_ She nodded, barking commands in a language they didn’t understand.  _

_ After that, it was all-out chaos. Six of the Masters fell in quick succession, and Mace Windu was tossed aside like he was nothing by one of the figures in black. He hit the windows, the transparisteel shattering around him but the man only crumpled to the floor, leaving him unconscious.  _

_ “Navini,” Kenobi nodded, staring around at the people he’d once called friends and suppressing the urge to be sick. This wasn’t part of the plan, but it would do. “Grab Skywalker, let’s go.”  _

_ But there was no response. The said girl was leaning against the pillar where Skywalker should have been, and a snarl came from behind Kenobi, followed by the sensation of something preparing to fall on him. Kenobi dodged the lightsaber, cutting off the hand at the forearm that held it with the sword.  _

_ Anakin screamed, falling to his knees in agonised pain, trying to stop the bleeding but to no avail.  _

_ It covered all the bodies, spraying across Kenobi’s face as the Jedi fell, but Kenobi only grabbed Navini, the two others falling into step behind them as they fled.  _

_ “I’ll kill you!” Kenobi heard the voice of Skywalker shout. “I’ll hunt you down and kill you, slowly, to pay for this!”  _

Anakin stood in shocked silence, staring down at the man with tears in his eyes. “You killed my friends,” he breathed. “You killed my  _ family. _ ” Anakin released his grip entirely on the man, memories bleeding into his mind, one after the other. 

_ His mother slung across his shoulders, his rage staining the blue night red, his blue blade shattering the Tuskens that had taken his mother. As the last one fell, in the distance, a red blade came, and Anakin had never felt so  _ ready _ \-- _

_ Blue eyes stared at him as the owner spoke, the language foreign to his ears. But he passed on before he could really remember-- _

_ “You,” _ Anakin breathed, his hand caressing Kenobi’s cheek. 

“Me,” Kenobi smiled sadly. “They took me from you, Anakin. Do you remember?” 

_ The night. Locked in an embrace, love sworn to high hells.... He must have been nineteen, staring at this man older than him but one he loved unconditionally, taken down by a purple blade-- _

“Ben,” Anakin breathed, his eyes wide, staring at Kenobi. 

“Ben,” Kenobi repeated, nodding. “That’s what you called me.” 

Anakin rolled the name over his lips, nodding. “It fits.” 

But before Kenobi or Skywalker said anything further, Ventress’s blade leveled at his throat, the Jedi raising his hands slowly in defeat. 

“I’m sorry it has to end like this, Anakin.” Kenobi punched him across the face, sending the Jedi sprawling and leaving him dead weight. He scooped up Anakin, carrying him out the way they’d came, across the streets, and into the Senate building. 

_ What are you doing?! _ Kenobi heard Qui-Gon shout at him, Lilith falling into step beside him as Ventress did the other side of him. 

_ Finishing this, _ Kenobi snarled, shoving his former master out of his mind. 

In the greenhouse, Ahsoka Tano knelt, twins Luke and Leia on either side of her. The rose in her hand, mangled and crushed, seemed to wilt before their their eyes.

“Snips?” Luke asked quietly, his blue eyes wide and scared. 

Leia clung to her brother, and Ahsoka took her sabers, her blue eyes turning back to the twins. “It’s time to go. Now.” 

~*~*~

_ “I’m still not sure if this is a good idea,” Vos warned Avalon, eyeing the group that had been talked into coming with them. _

He wasn’t necessarily worried about the required presence of Chirrut and Baze, who stared at him as if he were a threat, but more the third person on that ship, the dark face of Darth Maul. 

“My sources say that there is a Seperatist fleet moving into position above Coruscant. It’ll be a hell of a battle getting through with your Jedi codes, Quin, so we’re going to need all the luck we can get,” she called from the cockpit, then wheeled herself out into the main area. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Quinlan scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“It doesn’t, I’m ignoring you. I know Maul better than anyone, so you can shut your mouth. Have you heard from Anakin?” 

“I sense a great disturbance in the Force,” Chirrut quietly murmured. “As if it is being fought over, light over dark, man over man. We are walking into a maelstrom,  _ Kage. _ ” 

“I agree,” Maul nodded, his voice soft. “I sense it from Revis and Sidious, and that  _ brat _ Skywalker.” 

“Skywalker is  _ my _ brat, Maul, fuck off,” Vos grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Personally, I do not care what you do with the desert rat in your spare time,” Maul hissed, golden eyes flaring in anger, “but I would very much prefer you keep it to yourself. I sense a trap,  _ Kage _ Avalon.” 

Avalon nodded. “I agree, but the trap is not for us.” 

Maul muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “What was that?” Vos grinned, batting his eyes. 

“I  _ said, _ ” Maul snarled, eyes flashing, “that it’s likely the start of Order Sixty-Six. It’s not exactly the place we want to be,  _ especially _ if Skywalker is heading it.” 

Avalon sucked in a breath, and then released it.”Baze, get the Mandalorians on the comms. We’ll need their fleet.” 

“Wait,” Quinlan called, looking at the gray-haired girl. “What’s the order? What’s it mean?” 

Avalon chewed on her lip, looking away. Before she could answer, Maul looked at him, eyes impassive masks of indifference. “Master Sidious planted control chips into the Clones, programmed with various orders that would either kill him, or the Jedi. Order Sixty-Six is the order to eradicate all the Jedi in the galaxy on sight.” 

Quinlan stared at him in shock, then turned to Avalon for confirmation. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve been in his head. There’s no way Maul is strong enough to resist me on the spot and make it up.” 

Quinlan nodded, then headed to the cockpit, staring at the planet before them in agony. As he watched, Separatist ships came out of hyperspace, surrounding the planet in a blockade. His eyes widened, and then he slipped into the pilot’s chair, shouting, “Strap in!” before taking the yoke and shoving it forward. 

“What in all the Corellian hells, Vos?” Avalon shouted back, rolling into the pit behind him. 

“They’re forming a blockade. We won’t get in unless we go  _ now. _ ” He flipped a few switches and eased them into the atmosphere, chattering to air control as he did so. 

“You’re crazy,” Avalon grunted, and he laughed, listing off the altitude. 

“Fifteen thousand. You just figured that out, Avalon? Twelve thousand.” 

But he brought them down safely, Mace Windu staring at them as they entered the hangar. His face seemed older than he remembered, his eyes tired and his body tense. Depa stood strong and proud next to him, anger burning into her veins. 

Maul took a breath, and Chirrut paled. “Horrible things have happened here.” 

Vos ignored them, descending down the ship’s ramp with his saber clamped to his hip and his shoulders squared. “Vos,” Mace nodded. 

“Windu,” he returned, then nodded to Depa. “My lady.” 

“Master!” Aayla shouted, running down the ramp and into the Kiffar’s arms. He returned her hug, hugging the Twi’lek tight. “I’m so glad you made it safely.” 

“Aayla, listen to me,” he hummed, cradling her face in his hands. “Where is Skywalker?” 

“That’s what I came to tell you,” she rushed out, scrubbing a tear from her face. Her eyes lingered on the four people behind him, then turned back to him. “Kenobi took him. Kenobi and Ventress, they have him, and I don’t know where he is. They’re hiding him. The younglings are safe, I promise, but--”

She broke down crying, and Mace rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Aayla, darling,” Quinlan hummed, but Avalon stepped forward, eyes level with the shorter Twi’lek. 

“Aayla Secura,” she smiled. “I’ve heard many great things about you. Your master speaks fondly of you. My name is  _ Baransu no Kage _ Avalon of Lothal. What I’m going to do is touch your arm, and you will feel me in your head. Do not panic, but I can tell you’re scared and that is alright. I have to know what state Skywalker was in when you last saw him if I can help you get him. Understood?” 

She nodded, the blue eyes of the Twi’lek not leaving the silver of the Gray as Avalon took off a glove and gently gripped her wrist, information passing between the two. 

Avalon bowed her thanks, the three others drawing up alongside them. “Kenobi took some of the Jedi hostage. Six, maybe eight of them. Ventress is with him, so is Lilith, that  _ wretched _ bitch, and my best guess is they’ve taken him directly to Palpatine.” 

“What does Palpatine have to do with anything?” Mace snarled at her, the clear friction frizzing in the air. 

Avalon’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a fucking Sith Lord, Windu. I would know, I’ve brokered deals with him before; him  _ and _ Kenobi, and Dooku, and even Nute Gunray. I am  _ not _ as helpless as you would percieve me to be, Master Jedi, and I lead the entirety of the Gray Jedi Order.” 

Brown clashed with silver, the man chewing on his tongue with disgust at the teen that now outranked him. 

“We need a coordinated plan, and quickly, if we want to prevent any sort of backlash or unforeseen consequences,” Maul muttered quietly, and Mace snarled at him, purple saber at the man’s throat. 

“Why won’t you just  _ die, _ ” he hissed, and Maul only stared at him evenly. 

“If this behavior continues, I will personally rip your spine from your back, consequences be damned,” Maul stated bluntly, and Depa lowered her master’s arm. 

“We need him,” she quietly hummed, her eyes guarded. “I don’t like it either, but Master Yoda is missing. The Clones are getting antsy. The Dark Side is brewing around us in a cyclone, and I would much rather fight alongside a Sith to stop it than to be caught up in it.” 

Mace nodded, disengaging his blade. “Follow me. I think I know what to do.” 

~*~*~

“Master,” Kenobi hummed, anger in his bones. “I brought you Skywalker, as you wished.” 

A semi-conscious Anakin stumbled to his knees before Palpatine, the once-friendly eyes looking down at him with pride and disappointment. Anakin met them, pain in his eyes. “You’re one of them.” 

“Yes, my boy,” Sheev murmured, lifting Anakin’s chin with a strong, wrinkled hand. “And I have never been more proud of you.” 

He felt his heart shatter, every ounce of trust in the man falling through the floor of the Chancellor’s office. Kenobi looked away in agony, feeling every ounce of Anakin’s pain. 

“And the holocrons?” He asked, voice sharp, piercing. 

Kenobi tossed a bag on the table. “Koth was  _ far _ too easy to break, but unfortunately, he tripped the alarms. The Jedi are likely going to come after us shortly if we do not hurry.” 

“Lilith and I will handle the Jedi,” Ventress nodded. “By your leave, Master Sidious.” 

He waved the two women off, Anakin locked into place as Kenobi dropped to his knees beside him, pressing his forehead to the floor. 

“Anakin, my darling child,” Palpatine grinned, shaking his head. “You’ve grown so powerful. The seed of the Dark is so strong in you. You feel it, don’t you? Egging you on, forcing you forward?” He lifted Anakin’s chin again, grinning into his face. “Oh, so defiant. The same kind of defiance I saw on Padme Amidala’s face before I had her killed.” 

Anakin’s pain turned to rage, and he shoved Palpatine back into his chair with a Force push. “You have no right to speak of her that way,” he snarled, and Kenobi flinched. 

“Good, good,” Palpatine grinned, eyes flashing gold. “Use your anger.  _ Channel _ it. Give in.” 

“No,” Anakin hissed, struggling against the Force that held him in place. “I am no Sith!” 

“Oh, Anakin, please,” Palpatine scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve already fallen, you just don’t realize it yet.”

Anakin looked away, shaking his head. “No! I haven’t! I’d never!” 

“But you want to protect your children, don’t you, Anakin?” Palpatine grinned, leaning back into his chair. 

Anakin flinched, looking to Kenobi with pain in his eyes. “Yes,” he breathed, “and I want to protect those I love.” 

“Good, good; always so noble, my darling child.” 

Anakin looked away, the visions flickering back into his vision. 

_ The burning city, Kenobi behind him; Ahsoka leaving him cut and burnt on the sands of Tatooine; Quinlan fighting against Kenobi; the entirety of Coruscant burning before him-- _

The ebony figure was there again, her eyes fixed on his.  _ I told you I could help you, _ she murmured to him.  _ Trust me. _

_ This is the only way, _ the ghosts in his ear whispered.  _ Trust us. _

Palpatine drew his saber, the hilt flying into his hand from across the room, and proffered it to Anakin, nodding to Kenobi. “Prove you’re no Sith. Kill him.” 

Anakin took the blade, standing and staring evenly at Kenobi. His golden eyes were full of pain, but resignation for whichever choice he made. The Jedi stood, staring at Kenobi. “And if I don’t?” 

“It is Darth Vader you shall be called, my child.” 

There was the ebony figure, staying his blades as the blue and red crossed, illuminating Kenobi’s face in purple.  _ Not yet. _

“Anakin, no!” 

The voice of Quinlan Vos cut across the room, the seven with him spreading out and forming a half-circle. “Oh, how quaint,” Palpatine deadpanned, a smirk across his face. “Some Jedi. A former apprentice. Oh,  _ Baransu no Kage _ Avalon, how does it feel to be in power?” 

“You already know the answer to that,” she grinned back, her gray sabers twitching at her sides. “Maul, now!” 

She and Maul stepped in front of Anakin and Kenobi, their four sabers respectively preparing to defend the fledgling Sith and his lover from the Jedi group. 

“Traitor,” Mace hissed, his purple saber twitching in anticipation. 

“You can’t betray those you’ve never truly loved,” Avalon grinned, her silver eyes flashing gold. “He promised me power. I was delivered to my throne, and you, Quinlan Vos, rose with me.” 

“Ava....” he grinned, pain in his eyes. “He was your  _ father. _ ” 

“And he was weak,” she shot back. “So I killed him.” 

Chirrut and Baze stumbled back, pain in their gazes and anger written on Baze’s face. “You little  _ whore, _ ” Baze howled, but Chirrut held him back, shaking his head. “Not now, my friend, not now.” 

“I have been waiting for this moment,” Maul grinned, his blades spinning. 

Anakin peered past them, into the pained brown eyes of Quinlan Vos, into the shocked gaze of Aayla Secura. Ventress stood behind them, torn between right and wrong, dark and light, love and hate; her tribulation was the same as his, just a different means. 

Kenobi’s eyes widened as he saw the plan formulate behind the gold eyes of Anakin Skywalker, and with a roar, he plunged his sabers into Chancellor Sheev Palpatine. 

The man gasped with shock, staring into the eyes of his once prized prodigy. “I will not be your slave,” he snarled, and with a flourish of the two blades in his hand, he decapitated the Sith Lord, staring down at the head in disgust. 

Avalon grinned at him, but he only stared at her in indifference. “I want nothing to do with your empire,” he muttered, taking Kenobi’s hand. 

He tried to push past the group, but Mace stared at him, anger in his voice. “So you’re a Sith, too.” 

“Don’t try to stop me, Mace. I’ll kill you and the entire Jedi Order if you stand in my way.” 

Mace’s purple blade spinned, settling into the opening move of Vaapad. “Then I’ll have to kill you first.” 

Anakin snarled, golden eyes flaring in rage as he charged the Jedi, blue and red blade crossing purple. 

The red blade of Kenobi’s crossed Quinlan’s, pain in both of the men’s eyes, and Depa and Aayla took on Avalon and Maul respectively, the two Padawan pressing back to back as they took on the two more skilled individuals. 

Ventress looked between Quinlan and Kenobi, pain in her eyes.  _ My best friend, or the one I love. _

_ Hardly a choice, _ a voice whispered to her, so she jumped in between them, her sabers level. “ _ Enough,” _ she hissed, and they stopped, Quinlan taking her hand. 

One by one, the fighting stopped. When the dust settled, Kenobi, Anakin, Depa, and Aayla were the only ones left standing. Depa went to charge Kenobi, but Aayla stopped her, nodding to the two. “If we walk away now, what can you promise us?” 

Anakin squeezed Kenobi’s hand, sighing. “I can promise you that I won’t hunt you down. But there is an entire Seperatist fleet up there.” 

“If you walk out those doors,” Kenobi sighed, “you will die. Order Sixty-Six has already been placed. Palpatine wasn’t just chancellor; he was  _ emperor. _ The Senate is gone, Anakin. You are Emperor by default.... It’s time to address your people.”

Kenobi lifted Palpatine’s head, pressing it into his hand. “Are you sure you can do this?” 

Anakin looked out over the Senate floor, then stepped outside of the office he was in. “I am no longer Anakin Skywalker, Kenobi. I am not a Jedi. I am Vader.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter!!! god this has been a journey. such a story, such a dream.   
> Might make a sequel???? who knows, we'll talk when we get there.   
> my friend icse and I are working on an assassin's creed/star wars crossover. stay tuned for the first chapter, expected eventually once we get a consensus on what's actually going to happen.   
> thank you for following me this far. you're all beautiful people, and I couldn't ask for better readers.


	13. { t h i r t e e n : e p i l o g u e }

_ Ten Years Later _

_ She’s just like him. He’s just like her. _

Ahsoka Tano stared at the blue holos of Leia Skywalker and Luke Organa, both fifteen, both still so different. Rumors of rebellion had crept up, stories of Jedi hiding in the shadows. But Ahsoka, she knew nothing other than her watchful eye over Leia, making damned sure that she didn’t remember Luke or her father. 

But a fire burned in her. A fire that rivaled the fury of her father, or the passion of her mother. A fire that rivaled the power of Tatooine’s twin suns, a power that burned in her gut. She knew something was there, Ahsoka knew. Shmi had sent whispers of worry, of fear; but Anakin never came. 

Luke was strong. He was reserved, independent, and carried the Organa name with power. His blue eyes, guarded and trained, seemed to stare forward, piercing the former Jedi’s very soul. 

Six sabers sat on the wall behind her: the two green she’d graduated to Jedi Knight with, the gold of Mariana and the blue of Kenobi, and her two white, taken from Maul’s former blades. 

Peace had found her. The Tatooine desert had been kind to her, and the people just as kind. She streets of Mos Eisley welcomed her, the catinas friendly to her quiet face. 

It was at that catina she sat that day, sipping at her drink and rolling the scotch over her tastebuds. Today was Empire Day, she recalled. It was also the twins’ sixteenth birthdays. Propaganda seemed so far away there, the scoundrel nature of Hutt Space ignoring the strict laws of the Galactic Empire. Ten years ago that day, Baransu no Kage Avalon fell, her Gray Jedi Order falling back into hiding. Darth Maul and Darth Sidious were no more, and Count Dooku had died at her own hand. Quinlan and Ventress had vanished, no trace of them anywhere; she’d looked. 

A scruffy Han Solo sat in the corner, feet resting on his table and his Wookie friend staring at her. She knew him, and he knew her. Chewbacca had fought alongside her at one point, on Kashyyyk. He dipped his head in respect; she returned the gesture. 

Those from the Clone Wars had been driven into hiding. As far as she knew, only Master Yoda had survived without being found. Jedi didn’t exactly blend in well in the Outer Rim. 

“Another drink, Miss Taigen?” she heard the bartender ask, and she only shook her head in response, muttering her thanks. 

A scuffle broke out behind her, and she didn’t bother turning to look to see who it was this time. The cantina band still played, so it clearly wasn’t anyone important. Han’s eyes drifted over her, his gaze focused on the fight behind her. The men roared insults at each other in Huttese, the harsh language no longer foreign to her ears at it once was. 

But one man was knocked into her chair, knocking it out from beneath her. The cantina band stopped playing, the total silence greeting their ears as the two men slowly realised who’d they just angered. The people of Mos Eisley had since learned that the stranger Togruta that walked the streets with them was overly kind-hearted, a good soul in a land of people who kept their heads down, but if she was crossed, there would be hell to pay. 

“Atari Taigen,” they murmured, backing away. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” one man began, presumably the offender. 

She glared between the two of them, and pointed to the one who knocked her chair over. “You,” she grunted, then pointed to her chair. “Pick it up.” 

He quickly rushed to do her bidding, then she looked between the two of them. “You carry such respect for me, but yet you have no respect for yourselves. Get out of my sight.” 

The two scrambled out of the cantina as she returned to her drink, the cantina going back to business as usual. She set it to the side, her sand-colored shawl hiding her face from the rest of the room. 

“ ‘Atari Taigen’, huh?” A new voice asked, quietly whispering beside her in Huttese. 

She rolled her eyes. “Whoever you are, you can leave now.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t, not just yet.” 

She turned to the man beside her, blue-gray eyes piercing her soul. He stared at her with such hope, with such respect, but not the respect of a scoundrel. She looked him up and down, sighing. “Kanan Jarrus. I should’ve known you’d come for me eventually.” 

He sighed, a hand on her shoulder. “I need your help.” 

She snorted, shaking his hand off. “A lot of people do, Kanan.” 

He sighed, the brunette leaning on the bar beside her. “Please. You let me help you ten years ago. Now I need you to help me.” 

“Kanan, I’m out of that league. I can’t help you by directly getting myself involved. If Emperor Skywalker finds out I’m still alive...” She shook her head, sighing. “There’s a lot more at stake here than you’re aware of.” 

He nodded. “I understand that. But I need your help.” 

“I’ll let you know what I hear, alright? I don’t find much, but something is brewing. I can feel it, as if the Force is signing.” She smiled, patting Kanan’s hand. “The end is near, my friend. I trust you can find your way until I come to find you.” 

He grimaced, but nodded. “Thank you, Fulcrum.” 

She winked. “You’re welcome, Jarrus.” 

He left the cantina, and she followed shortly afterwards, mounting her speeder and flying out past the boundaries of the city and into the desert. It was there she watched Leia as the sun went down, Anakin's daughter staring out across the vast sandy sea. Her brown eyes scanned the horizon as it was stained reds, purples, and golds, studying it as if it were something new to her. 

_ I will come for you, my child, _ Ahsoka smiled at her, leaning back against the hot metal.  _ And together, you, your brother, and I will face your father.  _

She jumped back on her speeder, feeling the cold chill of the Dark Side settling in. She gulped, her hands tightening on the handlebars of her speeder as she drew closer to her home in the mountains. 

And there, in front of the chiseled cave that began the trek to her home, stood Mara Jade, the seventeen-year-old Emperor’s Hand, along with Knight Lilith. 

“What do you want?” Ahsoka hissed, glaring at them. 

“Just came to check on Emperor Skywalker's  _ favorite  _ Padawan,” Mara Jade winked, and she paused, her hands stilling over the netting over her speeder. 

“This is not a place where you throw about that name, Mara Jade. Get off your high horse, you  _ princess _ ; when it comes down to it, the only one Anakin saves is himself.” Her hands flew over the netting, undoing the knots that held it in place and retrieving her staff and items out of it.

“Master Skywalker has been very kind to me,” she shouted at her, and Ahsoka gave the redhead an even look, pity in her gaze. 

“Anakin Skywalker was once the person I looked up to more than anyone in the galaxy,” she snarled. “He abandoned me for the Sith, for Kenobi. Now, please,  _ fuck off. _ ” 

She stalked out into the cave, walking her speeder into the hidden alcove she stored all her expensive things in, and then walked deeper into it, finding her home untouched, unscathed. 

Images of Luke and Leia as children hung about the room, things they'd given her, or little bits of bolts and such. There was even an image of Anakin, laughing and smiling with the twins on his lap. 

Her tan fingers reached out and caressed the hologram, a tear sliding down her face. 

A man cleared their throat, and Ahsoka slowly turned, seeing the smirking face of Obi-Wan Kenobi staring at her. His words fell on deaf ears, the woman glaring at him with rage and pain. She saw the headless body of Mariana Chayten, the dead Eeth Koth, the wilted rose from the garden, and every little smile that Kenobi had given Anakin that led him away from her. 

Inside, her heart shattered, every ounce of pain she’d ever felt coming to a climax. Her entire life on this damned desert planet came to this moment, and Ahsoka Tano closed her eyes, centering herself in the Force. 

_ Revenge is not the Jedi way, _ she heard the voice of Mariana Chayten tell her. Her hands clenched at her sides, the twenty-eight-year-old woman latching onto her sabers, the white blades igniting around her. Kenobi tsk’d, igniting his red blade. 

Her blue eyes snapped open, her hands whirling to meet Kenobi’s red blade.

_ I am no Jedi.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap.   
> Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck through with me until the end. Thank you for over 70 kudos, making this my most popular fic yet. I plan to come back with a sequel eventually! Because, honestly, who doesn't want more Skywalker family drama?   
> Thank you to those of you who have supported me unconditionally and pushed me through this until the end. Thank you to those of you who just saw this and binge-read the whole thing. Thank you to those who didn't quite like it, too, because at least you gave me a shot.   
> May the stars watch over you, friends.


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